


Lessons In Love (by Kim and Linda)

by Kim Gasper (mickeym)



Series: Randy and Michael [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Barebacking, First Time, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, randy and michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-07
Updated: 2001-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/Kim%20Gasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In spring, a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of...sex. (A prequel to Randy and Michael.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons In Love (by Kim and Linda)

March 31, 1978

Michael:          Friday night, the end of a long, seemingly interminable school week.  I'm not certain why I was so restless; perhaps it was because of spring, and a young man's thoughts turning to love.  Well, not love, but certainly lust.  Love wasn't something I was interested in at the moment, a primary reason most of my assignations (lovely word for fucking, yes?) were with men, who didn't fish about like women for Relationships.  Capital 'R'.  Men had relationships, small 'r'.  Sex, simple and uncluttered, which *was* what I was looking for. 

I'd let Nigel, my latest such friend, drag me off to the pubs; I didn't drink much, and he found it tremendously amusing to see me get tight.  Ben, my American roommate, called it 'sloshed', which was as accurate as anything else.  Nigel, Ben, and I had ended up at a little pub on the outskirts of town called, of all things, The King's Bollocks.  Quite amusing, given it was what passed for the local queer place.  Nigel and I sat together in a booth, his arm companionably about my shoulders, one hand beneath the table, more or less on my crotch.  I'd had three---or was that four?---of dark bitters, and was feeling quite mellow and expansive.  I didn't drink often, so two was my limit.  Ben was encouraging me; I think he'd said something about wanting to see me dance naked on the table, or some such rubbish.  I think he had inclinations towards men, but was just too nervous to act upon them. 

I was entertaining the thought of just reaching across the table, grabbing him by the front of his sweatshirt and slipping him a bit of tongue when Nigel's clever fingers popped the button on my denims.  I turned my attention fully, if somewhat blearily to him.  He grinned like a devil, all flashing teeth and wicked blue eyes.  "Care to go in the back for a bit of slap and tickle, Pierson?  Quick toss, eh?"

I considered his offer.  His fingers slipped down between my legs, cupping me, tempting me.  Very tempting; I could feel myself grow hard beneath his palm.  I'd had just enough ale that the few inhibitions I had went sailing merrily out the window.  The more I considered it, the more the idea had definite merit.  I turned a lecherous look to Ben.  "Only if he watches."

Gleefully I watched dull red color work up from the neck of his sweatshirt, up his cheeks, even to the tips of his ears.  Nigel leaned forward, tugged at Ben's sleeve.  "C'mon, lad.  I want to fuck him, and you'll like watching.  I promise." 

Ben's mouth opened, then closed, without saying anything; I wondered if he was going to have an apoplectic fit.  But when Nigel slid from the booth, almost dragging me out in his impatience, his arm slipping around my waist, Ben wriggled out without a word and followed.  Nigel knew the place better than I did; I contented myself with groping his arse as he led us toward the darkened back of the pub.  My whole body sang a song of lust; Nigel was a lovely fuck, and I knew I'd have a good time---better, now that Ben was there to watch us.

Colin:  I watched the masses from the corner booth I was sitting in, nursing a pint. It was dark and smoky in here, and the walls fairly vibrated with the thudding bass beat of the music; it was a perfect Friday night. Mingled in with the harsher scents of cigarette and cigar smoke, and ale, were the scents of sweat, of sex, of too many bodies packed too closely together, lust flaring hot between them. I had no illusions about why I was here; it was Friday night, and I wanted company for the evening, and for the weekend, if possible. I wanted more than just a grope in the dark, but less than what most people generally angled for, hence my being here rather than at the local bathhouse, though if nothing panned out here I might take myself off to cruise there for a while. I reached under the table and rubbed myself gently; I'd been hard nearly since I got here, watching and waiting, knowing he was out there, somewhere, the perfect fuck for the evening, waiting to be found. It was just a matter of time.

The sound of laughter close by made me refocus and look up; I nearly choked on my swallow in surprise. Well, not surprise at seeing Nigel Stephens; like me, his proclivities are not completely

unknown. One queer to another, and all that. No, what took me by surprise was seeing young Michael Pierson with him. I wasn't completely sure who the third boy with them was; I'd seen him around campus, but didn't have him in my class. He was pretty, too, though from the looks of things, very unused to the surroundings; he looked like one good *BOO* would scare him to death.

As I watched, the trio stopped by the back door, either waiting for space to clear so they could enter, or just stopping to watch the activities inside. I'd not been in the back room in a while, but just thinking about what one could find back there made my stomach tighten with need and anticipation. A willing mouth, hand, arsehole; many things to bring pleasure, in that room. Always anonymous; it was generally too shadowy to know for certain who you were fucking or sucking. While they lingered in the doorway, Pierson reached out to the other boy, the redhead, and kissed him; I could see the shock and surprise when he pulled back, along with interest of a sort blossoming on the almost-too-cute face. Stephens' waited 'til the kiss was over, then fell to Pierson like a wolf to a meal, kissing him with abandon, hands groping and rubbing wildly. I reached down and rubbed myself, groaning softly when they tumbled through the door, and out of my view. Made me wonder if Michael Pierson liked to fuck, or be fucked. I was hoping for the latter. I slid out of the booth and headed silently for the backroom, following a trail only I could see or smell, like a wolf after prey. I grinned in the darkness; not a bad metaphor. I'd wanted Pierson since the first day he'd slid his cocky self into the seats in my classroom.

Nigel had him sitting on a table in the corner when I got in; they were kissing, lips and tongues moving together, the third boy standing awkwardly to one side, obviously wanting to participate, but uncertain. I watched Michael pull back, gesture to him, then kiss him again, and my body throbbed. By the time I got close enough to hear, I was on fire. I closed the space between us, flashing Stephens a predatory grin. One to another, and all that. "Gettin' a piece for yourself tonight, boyo? Think your...friend...would care to share?"

 

Michael:          At the doorway, I'd given in to temptation.  My hand reached out, fisted in Ben's sweatshirt, and pulled him to me.  I had one glance into his startled brown eyes before tilting my head and covering his mouth with my own.  He made a startled sound, and I dove in, aggressive.  For half a second, he was too startled to respond, but then tentatively, he began to kiss me back.  I pulled him close; he was much smaller than myself, and fit in a most lovely way against my body. 

He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and finally, I took one of his in my own, and placed it on my arse, pushing aside Nigel's to give Ben room.  I vaguely heard Nigel's smutty laugher, and obligingly, his hands moved to my sweater, bunching it up my back, tugging at the shirt beneath, pulling it from my denims.  I approved whole-heartedly; suddenly, it was too warm for this many clothes.

When I rubbed against Ben and found him as hard as myself, he gasped and pulled away.  But the heat in his eyes was unmistakable.  "Have a bit of fun, Ben," I said warmly, my words only slightly slurred.  "It's just a bit of sex between friends.  Nothing serious."

Before Ben could answer, Nigel became impatient and pulled me back around.  We were roughly the same height, though he was heavier.  He jerked my shirt from my denims and ran his hands beneath as his mouth came down hard on mine.  Lovely; he was an aggressive kisser, an aggressive partner, and I let the lust sweep me away, let him touch and rub and almost fuck me right there against the wall in the main pub room.  But enough brain cells fired that I realized that the barman would probably send someone over if we did that; they had the backroom for such activities.  I pushed him away, grinned hungrily at him.  "In the back.  Not here."

I grabbed Ben by the shirt and pulled him through with me even as Nigel pushed at me impatiently to get me through into the dimness beyond the doorway.

Sex. Sweat.  Lust.  Semen.  Rubber.  Ale. The scents were heavy, intoxicating, and the sounds, of fucking and sucking, moans and flesh slapping together, even more so.  Ben's eyes were wide; I'd seen it all before, and I was ready for the actual deed, so I ignored it as Nigel guided us to the back.

I suppose the room had once been a part of the main hall; it still had a few booths, and the odd table and chairs, pushed against the walls, almost like a storage area.  It made the room rather cluttered, but also provided some interesting surfaces on which to fuck.  He practically lifted me onto a table, moving quickly between my spread legs to wrap his arms around me and kiss me again.  I didn't mind at all; I loved kissing, whether it was a boy or a girl.  Nigel pulled back, then tugged the sweater from me, letting it drop to the tabletop, single-minded in his intent.  Not someone who liked a lot of extraneous activity; he dove straight to the fucking.  

I leaned over and pulled Ben back to me; he looked so uncertain, and I knew he'd bolt if I didn't occupy him.  Kissing seemed to do the job; he gave himself willingly, if shyly, and I applied myself with a passion.  As I convinced Ben to stay, I felt Nigel roughly unbuttoning my shirt, then he pushed it open, fingers combing through my chest hair, searching for tight nipples.  He pinched roughly, and I pulled back from Ben with a hiss.  "Leave them attached, eh?"

He grinned unrepentantly.  It was then I noticed the amber-colored eyes watching us hungrily.  I peered around Nigel's shoulder, and blinked.  I *knew* that face, recognized that voice when he spoke.  Well, well.  The pretty professor.  Somehow, I wasn't surprised to see him there.  I grinned at him as Nigel unzipped me.  A wave of snarkiness swept over me.  "A gentleman always practices courtesy, and sharing is always good manners."

Colin:  "Your mate here is about as far from a gentleman as they get, lad." I took a step closer, reaching out to touch Pierson's leg, watching his face when I did so. It was long, and muscular. I knew he was on the track team; he was probably active in a lot of sports--he had the body for it. His friend was edging away a bit; no doubt my appearance had thrown him for a loop. I gestured him back, smiling, trying to tone down the animal lust I could feel. "S'okay, we're all just friends here tonight, eh, lads? I'm happy to watch for the moment."  Unspoken was that I didn't want to remain on the sidelines indefinitely; I got a smirk in reply to that. Michael reached out and took his hand, drawing it to his mouth to suck on surprisingly long fingers for such a small man; I'd be willing to bet he was a couple inches shorter than I. I watched him close his eyes as a warm, wet mouth suckled, and felt a shudder roll through my body. Pierson obviously knew how to suck; hopefully he sucked cock as well. I settled a hip against the table, leaning down toward him almost companionably. "What say you, lad? Wanna get double-fucked, tonight?"

 

Michael:          I pulled Ben's fingers from my mouth with a wet, obscene sound, then licked across his slender wrist.  "Stay, Ben...it gets better."  He glanced at Richards, uncertain, but I tugged at his wrist again to get his attention.  "I'll make you feel good."

Nigel slapped my hip, and I lifted.  He skinned the jeans down to the ankles, and I kicked off my trainers to let him pull them from me.  Nothing beneath; I knew I was looking for sex tonight.  My cock sprang out, hard and eager, ready to play.  Roughly Nigel pushed me back to lie on the table, and dressed only in socks and an opened shirt, I allowed it.  It placed me close to Richards' thigh, and I looked up at him.  Different from this angle.  He looked amused, and hungry, all at once.  I rubbed my cheek against his slim thigh. 

I remembered his offer, and grinned.  "Why not?  I'm always ready to learn something new."  Nigel draped my thighs across his shoulders and without any finesse, sucked me down deeply.  I arched, a moan escaping me, then glanced down to see Nigel's blond head bobbing as he sucked me with rough, eager passion.

Colin:  "Yeh, I'll just bet you're eager." I leaned down, taking his mouth aggressively; even if it were my style, I suspected Pierson didn't get much into gentle wooing. Anyone who looks or takes anonymous backroom groping probably didn't want slow and gentle, as a rule. I raked my fingers down his chest, rubbing with the tips, teasing the hard little points poking through crisp-soft hair. He had a fine, fairly thick covering that eased off to a light sprinkling over his belly, arrowing into a fine line down to his groin. I traced my fingers back up, plucking roughly at one tender bud, laughing when he groaned and arched his back, pushing his chest upward. I pulled back from his mouth, wet and swollen in the dim light, and gestured toward his friend. "Suck him, Pierson. Let me see if your mouth works as good here, as in class." 

Michael:          Nigel pulled off me with an obscenely wet sound.  "Oh, it does," he said with an almost comical leer.  He unzipped, and his cock, short and stout, practically leaped out, ready for action.  He snugged up close, rubbing against me, and I raised a leg and kicked him in the belly, none too gently.

"Leave off and cover it up if you want to fuck.  You know the rule.  No coat, no fuck."  He whined for a moment, but he'd never fucked me without a condom, and I was still clear-headed enough to insist.  He fumbled in my discarded denim's pockets, came up with a little foil packet and a tube of gel.  Still grumbling, he slipped the condom on, lubed himself up.  He pulled my ass to the edge of the table, and slipped his gel-covered fingers into me without delay.  I grunted, but my body opened to him; no other foreplay.  I'd have appreciated a bit more preparation, but he was intent. 

"Impulsive bastard," I gasped, but bore down, opening up, knowing if I didn't, the discomfort now would blossom into pain.  He pulled out his fingers, folded my long legs up, and pushed against me, into me.  He was thick, though not long, and it took a minute of us thrusting and working against one another to get him in.  It hurt, the burn and sting was strong, but I liked it, knowing it was the precursor to greater pleasure.  I bit my lower lip, but didn't make a sound, concentrating on accepting him into my body.  We'd fucked several times, and it was always like this; I'd be tight, then I'd relax, and it would get good.  It was just a matter of waiting it out.  I opened my eyes and looked up at Ben, who watched the whole thing with a mixture of horror and lust.  My cock had gone down whilst Nigel worked his way into me, and I dropped a hand to fist it, bring it back up.  "Come on, Ben...let me taste you.  Unzip." 

He looked at me, then at Nigel, who moved slowly against me, then at Richards, who still had that amused look.  He shook his head tightly, stepped back, though to his credit, he didn't flee.  If he just wanted to watch, that was fine.  I turned my attention to Richards.  "What about you?  Want a bit of a suck?"

Colin:  I unzipped, for response, my eyes watching him, holding him. He laid there on the table, spread out like a King's feast, making my blood pound in my ears, making my head throb. I leaned in close and licked his ear, then whispered roughly, "I can make it even better for you, lad. Better than this buggerer can do." I was a little surprised by the rubbers; I didn't know many people - myself included - who used them. But whatever. Each person's preference, and all that. I pulled my jeans open; let my dick surge forth into the warm, thick air. I was beyond hard; I ached. I fisted myself, pulling my 'skin back, and shuddered into the stroke. So sensitive, so good. Michael turned his head toward me and I grinned, rubbing my dick against his lips. "Take a taste, lad. Wet it up, suck it down."

Michael:          Although he looked almost feminine, with his longish, curly chestnut hair, his fine, odd-colored eyes and a mouth as soft and lush as a woman's---the word androgynous popped unexpectedly into my head---when he unzipped and pulled himself out, he was all man.  A lot of man.  Long, thick, full, curving outward aggressively.  In spite of myself, I was fairly impressed; just looking at his slim body, I'd never have suspected he carried so much between his legs.  He rubbed the broad head against my lips, and my tongue darted out for a taste.  Hot, salty, slightly bitter, it was a taste I'd grown to love.  I licked around the head, beneath the ridge of crown, into the little piss slit.  He didn't seem inclined to let me do more; I wanted to taste him, to take him fully into my mouth, feel him full and heavy against my tongue, my cheeks. 

I twisted a little, slid my arm around his hips, pulling him closer, looking for a better angle.  Nigel had been moving steadily against me, and it had started feeling really good; my own cock rose again.  He hit that sweet place within me, and pleasure washed over me in an electric flood.  I wriggled beneath him, trying to get him to hit that place again, and when he hadn't nudged it again in several strokes, I pushed him off me.  He knew what I wanted, and with a wiggle, I turned, and slid to my belly onto the table, my hips off, cock hanging free.  He slid back into me, and I sighed with pleasure.  I knew he'd hit that place better in this position.  I raised up on one elbow and slid my arm again around Richards' hips, pulling him closer, until I could suck him in.

 

Colin:  God, it's like a fantasy, his mouth. A wet dream come to life, or something. I push my trousers down a little further and spread my legs, reaching in to cup my stones. Michael's mouth is stretched tight around me, working me with lips and tongue, throat rippling where he's swallowing around me. His hand replaces mine, rubbing and tugging, working me in the same rhythm Stephens is working him. I can see him, pushing into Michael's body, his hands lightly slapping tanned, spread cheeks. Where in the hell he got a tan this time of year in England is a mystery, but an intriguing one. I'd love to have more light, more time, to see if that tan is all over his long, lovely body. The redheaded boy, Ben, moves a little closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. I reach out and stroke red-brown hair and he flashes me a look that's equal parts lust, shock and fear. I know that look; that was me, twenty-odd years ago. I try for a smile; I suspect it comes out as something predatory, animalistic. The mouth working me is insistent; hot and wet, and so lovely, it makes the blood boil in my veins, makes me want to shoot all over that fine face, rather than in his hole. Maybe I could do both. I'd like to do both. I reach out and take a handful of brown-black hair, threading my fingers through it to hold his head so I can thrust better. His eyes close, then flash open to look at me, lust riding high in dark grey eyes. "You're like a bitch in heat, lad. Can't get enough cock, can you?"

 

Michael:          Oh, that's wonderful.  Just the right amount of command, lust, derision.  I hum around his cock, sucking happily.  Nigel's cock hits that spot again, jolting me; he slaps my ass and thighs, and the sting, sharp and bright, sends pleasure soaring through me.  My own cock has grown again, and Nigel reaches beneath me to fist it.  I'm awash in a sea of lust, riding one crest to another.  I know Nigel's close; his thrusts are shorter, sharper, harder.  I can taste Richards' pre-come flooding my mouth; not long for him, either.  I ease back, letting him slide from my mouth.  His cock is red and wet and slick.  "Don't come yet," I say, and my fingers tighten around him a little.  "Come inside me." 

As if on cue, Nigel finishes with a short sharp cry, and slumps over my back, his fingers loosening around my cock, still hard, still full.  He pants against me a moment, and then with a groan, pulls out of me and staggers back.  I feel oddly empty, and twist my hips when my body protests its emptiness with a spasm.  I've not come yet, and I ache to be filled again.  I look up at Richards and grin.  My tone, when I speak, is deliberately snarky and confrontational.  "Well, what are you waiting for?  An engraved invitation?"

Colin:  "You're a cheeky little bugger, aren't you?" I lean forward and brush my cockhead against his lips, teasing for a fraction of a second. "Awfully cheeky for a cocksucker." He grins at me, unrepentantly, his eyes smoldering. I reach down and grab his shirt, hauling him up enough to kiss; my taste is fresh in his mouth, mingling with the sharp scent of sex all around us, thick enough to coat my tongue. He's bigger than I am; I can't haul him around too much, nor hold him like this for long, so after a moment of trying to reach his tonsils, I let him go, biting at his lips as I pull back. He's still hanging off the table, his hips pumping forward lightly in some imagined rhythm. I slap his arse as I walk around the table. "Need a good wank, don't you? A good wank, a good fuck, anything to relieve the tension. Spread them wider for me, lad."

Stephens has caught his breath; he comes round to where I'm standing now, my dick strutting forward proudly, and hands me a condom. "He won't take you without it." The sound of foil tearing makes me twitch, I'm so hot to be inside him.

 

Michael:          I glance back over my shoulder.  Nigel hands him a condom, companionable, friendly; there's no jealousy or possessiveness between the two of us, so he doesn't mind if Richards fucks me.  Richards smoothes it on over his cock, then slicks on a light layer of gel.  I'm open and lubed up already, but he's a lot bigger than Nigel.  I readjust myself, spreading my legs wider, tilting my arse up for him.  My cock sways heavily, neglected.  Now if Ben would just slide to his knees beneath the table and suck me as Richards fucks me, it would be damn bloody perfect.  I glance over to him; he's big-eyed, rubbing himself through his denims.  I want to tell him to pull it out, not cream in his pants, but don't.  I lay my chest and cheek on the table, and spread my arms to grip either edge of it.  I have the feeling that the ride Richards gives me will be far different than the one Nigel gave.  "Stop fucking around back there and give it to me, already."

 

Colin:  "Bloody arrogant little snot." I slap his arse, then once again, liking the way my handprint shows red for a moment, even in the dull light. One rub up and down his cleft, shuddering when his body grips at me, tries to hold me. He's already loose and open, bumhole winking at me like a small mouth. I push against him, my hands gripping his hips hard, holding him spread wide while I thrust in. Not hard, just insistent, groaning hugely when he shoves back at me. No easy, gentle ride, this. He's hot, ready for me. I push in harder, swallowing a shout when he sucks me in, closing tight around me. Even through the rubber I can feel the heat of him enveloping me, can feel the incredible tightness squeezing me. My balls draw up close to my body and I stop, holding still for a minute, not even close to being ready to spend. One deep breath to make sure I'm okay, then I pull out a bit, plunging in hard and fast, feeling his shudder ripple through me as his body makes the adjustment to my bigger cock.

Michael:          My fingers grip the edges of the table, and I'm surprised it doesn't snap off in my hands.  It feels so good.  He fills me, and though I've never really cared whether my partner was big or small, I'm discovering the definite advantages to size.  I swear I can feel him nudging the back of my throat, he's so deep.  It hurts, it stretches places I'd never stretched before, and it's incredible.  I flex around him, and his fingers bite into my hips.  I thrust back as hard as I can against him, driving him as deeply as I can into him, until I can feel his belly, his crisp pubic hair against my arse.  A happy hum rumbles in my chest, escapes my throat, and I grind against him.  "More.  Give me more...fuck me...."

 

 Colin: "Eager lad; I like that." I'd shove my dick into him 'til it came out the other end, if it were possible. I've not had anyone this tight, this hot, in a long time. As much as I like being sucked off, even the pleasure of a hot, wet mouth isn't quite the same as burying myself balls' deep inside a tight, hot hole. I take a better grip, flashing my eyes over to Stephens, buttoning his pants up now, and the other boy, Ben, rubbing himself frantically through his jeans. Michael is mewling, pushing back against me, and I know what he wants. I want to give it to him. I lean down over him, bite at his ear, and whisper roughly, "I'm going to make you feel me in your throat, lad. Going to fuck you 'til there's nothing left of either of us." He grunts once when I withdraw, then I settle into a fast, hard pounding, feeling his body grasping me, holding me, letting me go reluctantly, over and over. God, it's good; I can hear my own gasps and grunts as I work in and out, holding him tight. One fuck isn't going to be enough; I know that already. I want the whole weekend with him.

 

Michael:          The pace he sets is quick, hard, powerful.  His thrusts rock me up onto my toes, surprising me.  I see a movement from the corner of my eye; it's Nigel, moving behind Ben, nuzzling his neck, his hands moving in tandem with Ben's own.  Something brushes against my thigh, a hand that doesn't belong to Richards, and in a moment, a head butts against my belly before someone takes me into his mouth.  I have no idea who it is, and I don't particularly care.  Whoever he is, he knows what he's doing, and that's all that matters.  I spread my legs a fraction further apart, trying to give him a bit of room.  I rock back onto the cock impaling, and then forward, into the hot wet mouth surrounding me.  With this much pleasure, I won't last long, but hell, what a ride.

 

Colin:  God, it's like trying to ride a tidal wave of heat. I can feel it all through me, within and without. Fucking, watching, hearing; the sounds of flesh upon flesh, and hot, wet sucking is almost too much; I may come from auditory stimulation before anything else. Stephens has decided to help the boy along; I don't know how far he'll get, probably nothing more than I'm seeing now. I can feel another hand cupping me; must be the fellow I saw crawl beneath the table. Someone I've never seen before, which is so much the better. All hot, all anonymous. I grip slim hips tighter, thrusting myself in hard; it's so close now; in just a minute I'll be screaming out my orgasm.

 

Michael:          The man beneath the table suddenly plunges down upon me, and I can feel his nose against my belly; I'm down his throat, completely.  He swallows, and that's all it takes.  With a shudder that works over my entire body, I jerk, and come, spending down his throat.  A muffled cry escapes me, and my fingers tighten on the table edge.  It's like being dipped in lava, as if I'm on fire.  My body tightens, clenches on the cock filling me as I pump hard into the mouth surrounding me.  Fucked, and fucking.  Nothing is better than this, surely.

Colin:  Michael's orgasm tips me over the edge. All that heat, contracting tightly around me, all the *lust* enveloping me, moving over me like a second skin. I thrust hard into him, then again, then a third time, holding fast as a groan rumbles out of me, my cream filling the rubber covering me. Damn, I wish I could have come inside him; I'd have a grand time licking it up as it seeped out of him. No matter, I'll still taste him there, yet. I hold fast, trying to catch my breath, my hips still working slightly, moving gently as the last of the heat fades through me. Young Ben has a large wet stain spreading over the fly of his jeans, and Stephens is wearing a smirk like none I've seen before. Another groan from beneath the table, and Michael jerks under me again. I wonder if his cocksucker spewed all over him. God, what a time this has been. I lean over him, licking and kissing his neck, tasting the sweat all beaded up and slick on him. "If you're of a mind, I'd like to do this again. My flat isn't far from here."

Michael:          "Yes."  The man sucking me now licks me clean, and I shift; it tickles a bit.  Richards---Colin, now that he's fucked me---licks my neck, and I want to moan.  He laughs softly in my ear, then straightens and pulls out of me, moving off to the side.  The man beneath me moves as Colin does, his tongue busy over my balls, over my perineum, and finally, moving around so he can lick my arse.  His tongue slides into me, and I jerk, almost sliding off the table.  I allow him to lick me a moment, before moving away from him.  He immediately turns to Colin, stripping off the condom, sucking him in.  I watch as he licks and sucks, happily.  He has long black hair, and his profile is aggressively ethnic.  Indian, perhaps.  It doesn't matter.  He's easy to look at; next time I'm here, I'll search for him.  Slowly, stiffly, I shift off the table, and stand. 

Nigel had thrown my denims onto the table, and I reach for them, clad only in my open shirt and socks.  It doesn't bother me to be half-naked; I'm well aware my body is the tight, toned one of an athlete, easy to look upon.  I slip into my denims, and zip up, not bothering to tuck in my shirt, nor even to button it.  I pull my sweater over my head.  I feel lazy, hazy, slightly drunk, and well and thoroughly fucked.  Ben looks shocked, and Nigel smug.  I'll be going with Colin; Nigel needs to make certain Ben gets back to the flat all right.  And if I'm not mistaken, he'll end up in Ben's bed tonight, one way or another.  I turn my attention back to Colin and his very attentive admirer.

Colin:  I don't recognize the man kneeling at my feet, but that's all right. I don't need to. He's easy to spot, I'll remember him for the next time I'm here, if I need a bit of sucking done. I let him lick me clean, not surprised when he upends the rubber. His attentions make me firm again, but not hard. I need a little more time than that to recover. I push him away gently when he starts nuzzling me again. Nice, but not what I'm wanting right now. What I want is the young man standing there, watching me with an amused smirk lighting up grey eyes. I give him a lecherous wink, then back up, zipping up. The man is looking at me, and I shake my head. "Another time, maybe. Not tonight." He nods and gets to his feet, body all smooth, fluid motion. I nod in the direction of Stephens, still nuzzling at Ben. "Will they be all right? Can you come now?"

  

  1. I'm sure they'll find something to...occupy themselves."  
  



Ben blushed again, but didn't move away from Nigel's wandering hands.  Maybe Nigel wouldn't get as far as fucking him, but he'd definitely end up in Ben's bed.  I'd rather wanted to be the first to fuck him, as Nigel wasn't the gentlest of lovers; maybe I would.  But, whatever happened, happened.  I bent and tugged on my trainers, turned back to Colin.  "I'm ready to leave if you are." 

A big man in motorbike leathers slid his arm about my waist and placed his big, meaty hand on my crotch, squeezing gently, his mustached face nuzzling the back of my neck.  He'd sucked me before, but not here; I recognized him, but couldn't remember where we'd done it.  Not bad, really, but not worth leaving what I had waiting for me now.  I elbowed him in the chest, none too gently.  "Oi.  Leave off, nelly."  I could feel his shiver; for all his size, he liked for others to abuse him.  I'd probably see him later; he'd remember, and come again.  For the moment, he slipped away after a quick rub against me, fading back into the gloom.

 

Colin:  "Here often enough you have admirers, eh?" I fished about in my pocket for the keys; even into early spring it's chill outside, and now, after sweating so much, we'll want to get into the warmth quickly. Michael makes a rude gesture, then grins, and we trail out of the dim room slowly, Nigel and Ben following behind us. I never notice on the way back to this room that the corridor is long and cool; usually by the time I'm on my way here I'm so hot it would have to be snowing for me to notice a difference. Another door to go through; before it was propped open. As the hours pass, and people get drunker, the barkeep often closes the outer door, or posts someone to keep an eye out. Wouldn't do to have coppers coming in and ruining everyone's fun.

Michael waves at his friends and we part company at the front door. My car is parked off on the side, an aging Fiat that doesn't run as often as it does. I have a soft spot for it; that's the only reason I keep it. We're both shivering a bit when we climb in, and I turn the heater up on full to take some of the chill off. I shift the car into gear and turn out onto the road, squinting against the night. "Been coming here often, Michael? I was a bit surprised to see you."

Michael:          I huddled into my leather jacket, leaning into the heat pouring from the dash.  I've never cared much for cold weather, particularly the wet, biting kind of rawness only early spring has.  Too much of Italy in me, I suppose. 

I consider his question.  "Not really.  Just once in awhile, when I get restless, and nothing else seems appealing.  I can move through there, fill and be filled, and I don't have to be pleasant or woo them or anything---just fuck, and be fucked.  Sometimes, that's all you wish, you know?"

Colin:  "Oh, yes. I know exactly what you mean." I turn to look at him, reassessing. He's younger than I'd originally thought; probably about eighteen. I smile, remembering that age, and all the restlessness that goes with it. "Relationships - the wooing and all that rot - are nice, at time. But other times, it's just as good to just let go." I consider his words, fuck and be fucked. "You like to go both ways, then? Top and bottom?"

 

Michael:          I can't help but smile.  "I like everything about sex.  I like men, I like women.  I like giving or receiving.  As long as it feels good, I like it.  Top or bottom, doesn't matter, though if able to do only one, I like fucking best." 

I lean back, assessing him.  He's a small man, but fucks like a demon.  "For you, I'll be fucked, unless you want to take your turn on the bottom end."  It really doesn't matter to me, one way or another, what we do together.  I do want to spend some time kissing him; he has a full, beautiful mouth, and regardless of other attributes, I've always fancied a pretty mouth, male or female.  With women, I like small breasts, long legs; with men, a sleek, muscular build.  But that's simply icing upon an already delicious cake; ultimately, it matters little.

Colin:  "I've taken my turn on the bottom, lad and prefer to the top, but for you I'd consider it." I reach out and cup his crotch, kneading gently through the denim, feeling a slight stirring beneath my fingers. "You're a quick one; I need a bit more recovery time, I think." I turn onto the small street where my flat is. Well, not so much flat, as someone's guesthouse, rented out for extra cash. Small, but separate, with its own entrance, and a parking space for the Fiat. Far enough back from the main house that I have my privacy, and it's worked out just fine. I cut the motor and let the car glide the last few feet to bump gently at a bale of hay set to catch it, then open the door. "I've not a lot in the way of space, but it's clean and private, and we can have a jolly romp." I give him a cheeky grin and gesture grandly toward the path, hidden behind the hedges.

Michael:          It's a small guest house, or servant quarters, hidden behind some hedges for privacy.  Nice.  Probably about the same size as a large flat.  But one person living alone doesn't need that much room.  He jingles the keys as we walk up the small path, and I'd grope him, but my hands are cold, so I keep them in my pockets.  The wind cuts through my sweater, touching my bare chest with cold fingers, and for a moment, I wish I'd taken the time to button up.  But in a moment, I'll be warm, and in all likelihood, naked as well so it doesn't really matter very much.  Colin unlocks his door, and ushers me in.  Within, it's warm and cozy, a little cluttered, very lived-in, full of golden lamplight and blessed heat.  He shrugs out of his coat and takes my own.  "I'd like a shower, first," I say before he can reach for me.  "I'm cold and I reek of cigarette smoke."

Colin:  I laugh, nearly dropping my coat in the process. "You're psychic, Michael...I was going to ask if you'd fancy a shower before anything else." I raise one arm to my nose and sniff. "I reek, too. We can strip off, and I can wash our things in the morning. Probably will need to change the linens as well, then, too." I give him a grin, and settle the coats, then put my hand on the small of his back and give a gentle push. "Bath is that way, down the hall. It's not a big place, main room, kitchen, bedroom and bath. You go on and strip off; I'll get us some towels."

Michael:          I kick off my trainers there on the spot, and allow him to give me a little push in the right direction.  The bath is tiny and aggressively white, and I let my clothes drop to the tiles.  I glance in the mirror.  My cheeks are flushed with a combination of sex and cold; my normally olive complexion is still dark from winter holiday in Italy.  I start up the hot water, and soon the bath fills with warm steam.  The water is wonderfully hot when I step beneath the spray.  Small things like this are enough to make me happy, and I hum contentedly as I lather up with his soap and scrub my short hair with his shampoo.

Colin:  His outline behind the curtain is nice; lean, tall, muscular, and I like the arch of his back as he leans into the shower spray. My cock tingles, and I can feel a shiver of arousal all through me. I set the clean towels on the top of the toilet, then pull the curtain back enough to step into the small tub. Its not really meant for two, but we'll manage. It's not as if we're trying to *keep* from touching, after all. He's turned now, face to the spray, letting the water sluice the soap off, and I nuzzle into his back, licking at the water droplets clinging there.  "Oi, you're a nice sight in my tub, Michael." I kiss under his ear, then lick the lobe, feeling his shiver against me. "You feel good, as well."

Michael:          I laugh as his hands move around me, running over chest and belly, pale in comparison to my skin.  He has nice hands, slim and graceful, uncallused, unlike mine.  A scholar's hands.  Mine bear calluses from reins and oars.  His flesh is cool against mine, but warms quickly, and I rub back against him.  I can feel his cock rise, and his hand slips between my legs to fondle me.  I rub back with more purpose, and his cock slips between my arse cheeks, into the cleft. 

I'm a little sore from taking him and Nigel both, but I'd gladly take him again, though not in the shower.  I brace my hands against the shower walls and lean forward slightly, the water pounding hot over my shoulders and back, and spread my legs as much as I can within the confines of the stall.  "Then feel me.  As much as you want.  Just no fucking here, yes?"

Colin:  "Agreed. You're too tall; I'd break my back unless we were both on our knees. Besides, if I'm to fuck someone in the water, I'd rather it be a hot tub, or somesuch." His laughter rumbles through his chest again; I can feel the vibrations against my hand as much as hear it echoing in the small bath. It's hot and steamy in here, and the feel of his slick flesh against mine is almost too good. I rub a little more, letting my cock slide between his legs, nudging at his sac. The slip-n-slide friction feels bloody wonderful, and I let go his cock to slip my hands upward, pressing him back against me, rather than leaning forward. "Wonderful. You're fucking fantastic." Warm, sculpted flesh, hard against me. He's not built like a weight lifter, rather all long muscles, lean and sinewy. But there's tremendous strength in his body, and it's impressive both to touch, and to feel touching me. I scatter a few kisses on his shoulders, then step back so he can move behind me. I want to wash off as well, then get something to drink, and take him to bed. "I would ask if you need your back washed, but I'd be likely to get distracted. Perhaps tomorrow, I might, eh?"

 

Michael:          "Perhaps."  I grin as we work our way past one another in the tight spot, bodies moving against one another in the most delightful way.  I soap up my hands and wash his back, his small tight arse, slipping between his cheeks.  He's slim and slightly built, more slender than athletic, definitely smaller than Nigel, who is more beefy, almost running to fat.  His hair is heavy and thick and curly, dark with water.  I tilt his chin up, my fingers stroking his throat, and lean over his shoulder to kiss him.  The position is awkward, but still satisfying; his tongue is quick and clever, and my free hand reaches to smooth over his chest.  He has little chest hair, and his nipples are like little pebbles as I tweak them.  I laugh against his mouth, and release him.  "I'm ready to get dry, then wet again.  What about you, Professor?"

Colin:  "I think I'll have to agree with that plan, boyo." I lather my hair up again, then step back into the spray. While I'm not against the occasional fag, I don't like to smell of the smoke. Michael steps out of the shower, reaching for a towel to wrap around his hips. When I shut it off, he hands me one, then takes up another to towel off his hair. I'm struck again by the lithe grace he moves with, muscles flexing and bunching fluidly. I snort inelegantly, thinking of all the times I'd caught myself watching him in class. "Fancy a drink? I have some ale, and I have some plain orange juice, if you don't want any more alcohol. Or I have wine...I think. Somewhere." I give him a grin; he's not what I'd call *handsome*, but his face is striking. Not a bad cruise for the weekend.

Michael:          "I don't drink much.  Don't like to lose control.  Juice, or tea, is fine."  I hand him the towel, and watch him dry his thick hair, then drape the towel around his shoulders and finger comb them into place.  For the first time, I notice the gold stud in his ear.  Surprising.  I raise my hand, run a finger over it.  "I like it," I say decisively.  "It's different."

Colin:  His fingers are warm. "Ta. The faculty hates it; especially the tenured profs. They think it's an abomination, that I should outgrow my "student" phase, as one old charmer puts it. I got it a long time ago; before I even started university." I laugh, pushing my hair back out of the way. "My father saw it and called me a queer on the spot. Mum was a bit more tactful, but not by much. And probably only because ladies of her day don't use words such as that." I leave the towels draped over the side of the tub; it's not like I haven't seen what he has, nor he me, then pad off down the hallway toward the kitchen, Michael following close behind. "I don't drink often, for much the same reason, but once in a while I like to lock myself in here, and go on a bend."

 

Michael:          I leaned against a counter as he puttered around the kitchen.  A glass of cold orange juice for the both of us.  I'm thirsty, and follow it up with water from the tap.  I know I'll pay for it later; that, plus the ale, and I'll be in the bath half a dozen times.

Colin leaned against the counter opposite me, studying me.  He seems perfectly comfortable naked.  Nice body.  I set the glass down on the counter, and turn to leave the kitchen for his bedroom.  I strip off the towel, give it a toss onto one of the kitchen chairs.  "I'm ready when you are."

 

Colin:  I can't help the laugh that escapes; he seems so serious, his expression stern, the grey eyes dark. I shake my head and flip off the light, leaving us in only the light from the lamps in the living room, golden and warm, but not penetrating far into the kitchen. "Not just yet. Come over here." I cock my head to one side, watching him move, coming to stand before me, and the expression in his eyes when I press him back against the wall, pinning his larger frame there. I'm not small, and he's not huge by any means, but he is bigger...and it sends a lovely curl of heat moving through me. I press harder against him and tilt my head to kiss him, his mouth soft under mine, then responsive, opening to let my tongue curl along and over his. I slip my arms up around his neck, groaning softly when he relaxes back, returning the kiss completely.

Michael:          I had been intending to kiss his lovely mouth once we were in bed, but this is better, definitely.  I lean against the wall, and spread my legs, so I can pull him closer.  He's warm and hard against me, and feels good between my thighs.  It makes me wonder how he'll feel atop me, within me.  I like the way he kisses, wild and abandoned and hungry, and I like the way his arms are tight around my neck, how his fingers work into my damp hair.  I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him, press him close into my body, my hips moving slowly against his.  When we have to finally break to breathe, I burrow my face into his throat, nipping and sucking.  He smells like vanilla, like his shampoo, and my arm around his waist drops, my hand caressing his smooth arse.

 

Colin:  "I want to touch you everywhere, Michael... kiss and lick...bury my tongue where my cock was, earlier." He shivers once against me, his big hands touching, teasing, stroking me, making me echo his shiver. "C'mon, lad, let's get to bed...I oughtn't have started this in here...but I couldn't resist." I pull back just enough to see his face, warm in soft light, and reach for his hand as it slides from my waist. "Come along. Perhaps we've time for a lesson of a different sort."

Michael:          I let him lead me into his bedroom, and sit down on his bed.  He smiled at me, and I leaned back, spreading myself over his bed, opening my legs for him.  I let one hand trail over my chest, plucking idly at a nipple, let the other slip down my belly to the base of my cock, which was rapidly filling, rising.  "Just what do you wish to teach me, Professor?"

Colin:  "All about pleasure, Michael. How to get it, how to savor it. The best lessons life has to offer, in my opinion." I glance down at his hand stroking over his growing cock, and smile, moving to settle on the edge of the bed, right next to his spread legs, where I can touch nearly all of him. His skin is warm, and much softer than it looks, with all that lovely hair on his chest. "Such a lovely lad...small wonder you're popular with the other boys, eh?" I lean in and kiss his chest, licking a wet line over to one nipple, teasing a whisper of air along the dampness. He gasps softly, and I grin, leaning in closer to lick over his nipple. "Have you ever been rimmed? Well and truly rimmed, not just a tongue swiping across your ass?"

Michael:          "No...."  He leaned over me and his lovely mouth moved over my nipples, suckling each one in turn, biting gently.  Wonderful.  "No, never...just like that man earlier.  I liked it."  His damp curls swirled over my skin, cool.  I arched upward, wanting more contact, but he moved away with a soft laugh.  I moved restlessly on the quilt, feeling hungry, achy.  "I'm ready...."

Colin:  "You're too much in a hurry, lad. Sex is the ultimate pleasure, and meant to be slow, savored. You've played with the children; now's the time to learn to play with the adults." His eyes are dark with the arousal moving through him, attested to by the cock bumping against me as I lean more fully over him, licking and sucking at random points on his chest. "You're ready to be fucked, but you need more, yes? Fucking is good...bloody good. But I can show you so much more. And I guarantee it's better than first-year English Lit." I smile against his skin when he makes a choking sound, like a cough and a laugh all at once. I shift up and over, straddling his hips, letting my bum ride his cock, rubbing down against it. "Pleasure. Go with it, Michael. Learn to ride it." I slide my hands up his arms, pressing them to the bed as I lean forward to kiss him.

Michael:          His fingers wrap around my wrists, pressing them into the bed.  I like having him above me, having him leaning over me, kissing me.  I want to hold him, but let him hold me down, letting the tension of it roil through my blood.  Though I ache for him to fill me up, to fuck me hard and fast, I'll try to slow down.  His cock rubs against my belly; not so cool himself, it seemed.  I raised up as much as he'd let me, sucking on his tongue as I'd suck on his cock.  He moaned, and when he pulled back slightly, I bit and sucked at his full lower lip, then trailed my mouth over his chin and down his throat as far as I could reach.  My cock ached for stimulation, for rubbing, and though his arse was temptingly close, I couldn't quite curl up enough to rub against him.  "Teach me.  Teach me pleasure, then fuck me...."

Colin:  "Yes...." I let loose his arms, settling myself over him, letting him wrap his arms around me, pulling me close. His mouth is too tempting to ignore for long, even though his neck and throat are equally tempting. I dive in, taking him aggressively, stroking and sliding my tongue against his, licking and sucking, encouraging him to do the same. When I break for air, then lick down to his neck, he bucks under me, jerking when I bite down, scraping lightly with my teeth. Very sensitive here, a good spot to play a bit. "School's in session, boyo. Lessons, then rewards. Arch your head back a bit." He moans deep in his throat when I suck on the tender skin of his throat, sliding my tongue over his Adam's apple before sucking there, then running my open mouth up and down the long, rippling length. He swallows convulsively, and I stop to watch the muscles working, imagining him on my cock again.

Michael:          "Ohhhh...."  I close my eyes and tip back my throat for more.  If anything will make me slow down, this might be it.  My throat has always been sensitive.  "Oh, that's lovely...more...."

Colin:  "You're easy, Michael. Kiss and lick your throat, and I could do anything I wanted to, whilst you moan and writhe beneath me, begging." I lower my face, licking at his ear, teasing the tip of my tongue around the small canal, before breathing into it. "Do you like to beg, lad? Would you beg for me?"

 

Michael:          "I've never begged, not for anything."  I can feel a curl of irrational anger at his words; where it comes from, I'm not certain.  My hands go to his waist, and start to push at him, but then his mouth settles on my throat again, sucking and biting, and I don't really remember why I was angry in the first place.  Instead of pushing him away, I pull him closer.  "Mark me.  Make me remember this for days...."

 

Colin:  I laugh softly, then push his head over to the side, baring his throat to me. The big vein pulses; if I stare hard enough, I'm sure I'll see it. I can feel it, pounding against my tongue. "Come back to me, when the mark fades, and I'll put another one there. And another one, and one after that...." I whisper the last words against his skin, licking gently down, 'til I come to a spot just above where his neck curves into his shoulder. No warning, just my hands tightening on his arms before I bite down, sucking hard until I feel the warmth blossoming under my lips. I can hear his groan, feel his jerk, then his body relaxes under mine, his hips moving up again, rubbing against me. I suck again, then pull back to watch the red-purple color begin to spread, satisfaction curling through me with its own warmth, akin to sexual pleasure. Michael rolls his head back to look at me, and his eyes are dark, nearly to black, the pupils so large. He licks his lips and I don't need any other invitation; I lean in and take his mouth roughly, releasing his arms to press myself down against him.

 

Michael:          It's like being in the midst of a storm.  I wrap myself around him as much as I can, rubbing shamelessly against him, holding him tightly, my excitement an almost tangible thing between the two of us.  I've not let anyone mark me, ever.  It's tremendously wanton, and I want more.  With a heave, I shove him from me and move over him, nuzzling over his throat and shoulder, finally working my way beneath his arm.  His scent is exciting, and I rub my cock against his leg as I choose a place between underarm and nipple, and bite down, sucking hard to leave a place of my own.

 

Colin:  I thread my fingers through his short hair, holding him in place as the groan spills from my lips, louder than his was. He sucks harder, then moves his mouth, biting and licking 'til he gets to my nipple. I tense, expecting him to bite there, but he surprises me by only suckling at me, lips and tongue rough, but not harsh. Only a moment, then he moves back, burying his face under my arm, licking and biting at me, at the tufts of hair there. I can hear the growl rising in my chest; he's marking himself with my scent, marking me with his teeth. It's intensely primitive and incredibly arousing. Scent. Scent is a good thing. I shift around so I can get to his mouth again, wanting to taste more of him, to kiss him until the two of us are drugged senseless. I push at him until he rolls to his back once more, letting me kiss slowly down his chest, teasing bits of flesh with bites and licks until I come to his navel.

Michael:          I'm in almost constant movement; I can't seem to lie still for him.  I want him to touch me everywhere, and to do it *now*.  I can feel his breath on my belly, hot and wet, and thrust up, my cock sliding over the smooth skin of his throat.  I want him to suck me; I want to roll to my belly and rub against the quilt, offer my arse to him.  I don't mind taking the bottom; twice the pleasure to be had there.  He's so damned slow; it makes me want to howl in frustration.  I wriggle beneath him, trying to get him to suck me without asking for it, and his odd-colored eyes look up at me with amusement.  "Lessons tomorrow...fucking now."  I grit my teeth.  "Please."

 

Colin:  "So bloody impatient." I laugh again, nuzzling his belly, then the base of his cock, feeling the vibrations of his body echoing through mine. "Losing all the extra pleasure because you're afraid your body might explode with wanting? It's that wanting that is the most powerful force, Michael-lad." He makes a hoarse noise, something between a growl and a groan, and I scoot a bit lower, rubbing my cheek against the satiny skin of his cock, feeling droplets of pre-come spreading over my skin. "Oi, lad. Such a treasure ought be better appreciated." I take my first taste of him, licking downward, catching the tiny trickles of fluid. He jerks like I've bitten him, his fingers clutching at the bedding. I slide my tongue over his stones, burying my face in between his legs, inhaling deeply, shuddering with arousal. Yes, further lessons may have to wait. His fever pitch is rubbing off on me, now. I breathe in again, then raise up enough look at him. "How would you like it best, eh? Back or front?"

 

Michael:          Wordlessly, I turn to my belly, hips moving slowly over the quilt, rubbing myself into the fabric.  I've had him like this, so I know how good it feels.  Fancy stuff later, tomorrow, when I'm not so keyed up.  Now, all I want is to feel him inside me, to feel the raw pleasure of him fucking me, feel the build up of orgasm and the mind-blowing explosion when I do spend.  "Like this.  Remember, no fucking without a coat on."  He probably thinks me daft for insisting, but there are so many diseases out there, and I've fucked so many people, I didn't want to catch anything.  No time for it.

 

Colin:  "Aye, I remember." I kiss the hollow of his spine, flicking my tongue over the ridges and bumps there, trailing upward from the upturned arse to the base of his neck. He's delightfully sensitive and responsive here, as well; I bite down gently, nibbling, really, feeling the shivers running all through him. His skin is like fire, and I vaguely wish to be eighteen again, as well, to have all this fire and energy and need for things *now*.

My dick aches when I stand up off the bed, fisting it slowly while I straighten. Michael mutters he has rubbers in his denims, and I look around, trying to remember where I put our clothing. Ah, over the chair. I can feel his eyes burning holes in my back as I amble over, fingers still playing lightly with myself, spreading the fluid leaking from me all around the hot, thin skin. I fish through his pockets 'til I find several small foil packets. One's enough for the moment. I grab up the tube of gel, then tear the packet open with my teeth. I grit my teeth whilst I smooth it on, my fingers trembling as waves of need pour through me. The gel is cool on my palm, and I hold it there, waiting for it to warm a bit. A quick slap to Michael's thigh and he shifts, pulling his knees up under him, opening to me. I spread the gel over his hole. "Tomorrow morning I'm going to eat you, lad. I'm going to feast right here."

 

Michael:          The whole idea sends a delicious shiver over my entire body.  I'd had men lick over me, but it was perfunctory, too quickly done.  I'd liked the way it felt, though.  Colin obviously had a lot of experience on me, and in a corner of my mind, I was really looking forward to his lessons.  I wriggled until I got my long legs folded beneath me, until my cockhead just rested against the quilt, a bit of a tease.  Right now, all I wanted was straightforward, simple fucking.  I wanted to tell him to hurry up and give it to me, but refrained; I knew he'd just laugh at me.  Cheeky sod. 

I glanced at him over my shoulder.  He was smoothing something over his cock, slicking himself up.  Excitement burned in my belly, and my cock twitched.  He had a lovely cock, long and thick, though not as thick as Nigel's, and with a definite upward arc.  The very though of him pushing into me, of the mixture of pain and pleasure, was almost enough to make me come right then.

 

Colin:  "Right here, lad." I can feel his entire body twitch when I lay my hand on his back, fitting myself up snuggly against him. I like this position; I can fuck him, and wank him, all at the same time. And it affords me the greatest, deepest penetration. He'll feel me clear into his throat, with luck.

His body is still loose and open from earlier; Stephens isn't as big as I am, but he's thick, and cleared the way nicely for me. I press hard against Michael, pushing my hips forward. I'm not going to go nice and easy, because I know that's not what he wants. Later, later I can fuck him slow and easy, show him how good it can be. I fit myself along his back as I push in, flesh to sweaty flesh, and Christ Almighty it feels good. I lick his shoulder. "I love this, Michael-lad...filling a lovely, willing arse, feeling you tighten all around me."

Michael: My fingers curl into the quilt as he pushes into me, and I squeeze my eyes closed, all the better to savor it.  It hurts, but doesn't.  I bear down and push back, and then he's in, with a long lovely slide of flesh into me.  I let out a shuddering sigh as he snugs up against me, working his way deeply into me until he's seated, securely.  His weight upon me pushes my hips down, rubs my cock against the quilt.  I shift, spread my legs a little further, moving against him as he does against me, seeking maximum contact, maximum depth.  And oh, he's deep.  I swear I can feel him nudging the back of my throat.  I'm stretched almost to the point of discomfort, and breathe deeply, trying to relax.  My body protests; three fuckings in the span of a couple of hours is a bit much, even for me.  By this time, I've usually switched to a more active role.  But I don't care if it hurts, aches.  I rub my cheek against the quilt, and push back against him, letting him know I'm ready for more.

Colin:  "There's a good lad...." My whisper seems loud, rough, in the otherwise still room. The only sounds are our breathing, and the soft, slick-wet noises of my flesh into his. I hold him tightly for a moment, giving us both a chance to grow accustomed to this before I begin to move. He's taken me twice now, and Stephens once, and I'd wager that at least some of those grunts and shudders are pain as much as pleasure, though he's not saying a word. I kiss his shoulder again, lingering on the smooth, smooth skin, feeling the warmth burning against my tongue, burning my cock where his body clutches at me. "Lovely, lovely, Michael...you feel so good...." One last moment, then I draw back and plunge in, harder, faster, wanting to feel the excitement of fucking racing through my veins, and along my nerve endings.

Michael:          The kisses, the soft words, surprise me.  I stiffen a little; I'm more accustomed to roughness.  With women I'm gentler, though I tend to pick the ones who like it hard and unadorned.  Sex has always been a rough and tumble affair for me, and to find a bit of gentleness is surprising.  His mouth is by turns soft against the back of my neck, making me shiver, and then I'll feel the sharpness of his teeth, which makes me shiver for different reasons.  When one stroke hits against that special place, sending an almost electrical current through me, making me cry out, it's glorious.  I push back against him, wriggle, angling for that spot again, my hands gripping his linens tightly, panting with the effort.

 

Colin:  I shift him forward, my hands sliding down to hold his hips, then to spread his cheeks wider so I can watch myself disappearing into him. It's intensely exciting, watching his body swallow mine, my flesh red and hard, and so swollen with need. I thrust harder, faster, my hands gripping him open. "Wank yourself, Michael. Do it while I do you, lad." I'd like to touch him, to do it for him, but he's enough bigger than I, I'm not sure I could do it without making it awkward. And I'm enjoying myself entirely too much right now. One hard thrust, shoving myself deeper than I've gone yet, and I pivot and swivel my hips a bit, hearing the yelp from him, then the contractions of his body as I hit that small gland. I know how good it feels; pleasure pouring over your body, in hot, melting waves. I grunt, aiming for it again and again, teeth gritted against the pleasure swelling within me.

 

Michael:          He's fucking me hard, with abandon, and the ferocity of it makes me soar.  I fumble one hand beneath me, yelping again when he hits that one place within me that brings so much pleasure.  I won't be able to walk tomorrow, but that's tomorrow.  Tonight, it's so rough, so wild that I can't think, can't do anything but experience it, let it carry me along, a tsunami of pleasure swelling within me.  I manage to work my hand beneath me, to jerk myself once, twice, and as I do, he hits that place again, and I'm roaring out my coming, my body burning up, on fire, consumed.  I spill into my hand, onto his bed, clenching tightly around him, scrabbling for purchase, for something, *anything* to hold to while I sob out my completion.

Colin:  I could feel it building within me with each hard thrust; when his body tightened around mine I knew I was lost. Each stroke into him, as he grasped and milked at me, groaning and arching through his orgasm, made me throb hotly, and with one final, slamming thrust I gave into the pleasure pouring all through me like so much molten heat. I thrust in hard enough, with enough force to knock us both to the bed, my hips still pumping as heat seared through me. I could feel myself filling the rubber, my seed thick and hot, leaving me in three long bursts, then one smaller one. I lay there on him for a moment, winded beyond ability to move, panting harshly as I tried to get my breath back. I could feel his pulse hammering against me, or maybe it was my own heart, pumping wildly, or maybe the two of us together. When he shifted beneath me I moved slowly, reaching down to grip my cock so the rubber wouldn't slide off as I pulled back. I enfolded it in a bit of tissue, then dropped it into the waste bin beside the bed, slumping back beside him, still feeling tiny aftershocks zinging through me.

 

Michael:          My whole body throbbed with pleasure; it began in my arse and moved outward.  I still lay on my belly, spread fully out, one hand still around my cock, the other still gripping the spread.  My breathing was loud in my own ears, and my heart pounded in my chest.  Colin moved off me; vaguely I was aware of him moving about, before he returned to lie next to me, his arm casually thrown across the small of my back, hand caressing my hip.  Everything hurt, seemingly hypersensitive; everything felt good.  I shifted slightly, with a moan. "Oh my god.... "

Colin:  "Sore, are you?" Michael nodded, or moaned softly, something indicating the affirmative, and I shifted off the bed again, slowly. My own body wasn't sore, exactly, but sensitive now. Of course, I hadn't taken three cocks in two hours, either.

I padded out into the main room, and cranked the heat up another notch. I'd hate to see the bill when it came, but I'd rather be warm now, than to have even a slight chill. I set the kettle on to boil, then rummaged about 'til I could find a small tin bowl and washcloth. Hot water into the tin; by the time I got back to Michael it would be cooled somewhat. Two cups out for the tea, and it would be two trips to get everything, even with a tray. I fished about in the cabinet beside the stove and found a bottle of aspirin. I wasn't certain how sore he was, but at least I had them if he wanted them. When the kettle boiled I put our tea together, then carried the mugs back. He was still in the same position, lying there with a dazed look on his face. One more quick trip to bring back the tin bowl, now nicely warm rather than hot. I wrung out the washcloth, leaving it nice and warm, then settled one knee onto the mattress to sit beside him.

"Spread your legs a bit, lad. This'll take some of the sting out." He stiffened when I touched him, then relaxed, moving his hand from his cock, and his legs apart for me. The first touch of the cloth made him tense, then he moaned softly when I stroked it over the small, intensely red hole. "A bit too much tonight, eh?"

 

Michael:          "Perhaps," I murmur.  The cloth settles firmly over my soreness, the heat seeping in.  I stir a little beneath it, but then it starts to feel good.  No one has ever bothered; it's really quite nice.  Most other partners I've had would've been asleep, or out looking for another, by this time, but Colin's actually kind. 

I turn my head to the side and watch him.  He has very long dark lashes, like a woman's, and that soft full mouth, like a woman's.  His bone structure is fine, much more than my own; he's pretty, rather than handsome.  Just looking at him, I'd have figured him for someone who liked to take.  He makes me think a little of that fellow on the telly show, The Professionals, with the curly auburn hair, though I've no doubt Colin's is natural.  As if he can feel me watching him, those odd-colored eyes flick up to mine, and his mouth curves in a smile. 

I reach up, run my fingers over his mouth, his jaw for a moment, then curl over onto my side.  He wrings out the cloth in the warm water, and smoothes it over my belly, over my now-soft cock, cleaning me gently.  Another gentle push, and I settle onto my back, legs open.  He seems to like to look at me, and I don't mind; I have the tight, firm body that genetics and athletics has given me.  I know I'm not handsome, but the body is good, and that counts for much.  After he's finished washing me, he leans in and presses a kiss to my belly, just beneath my navel, and his long curls tickle over my skin.  I move languorously beneath him, sore but sated.  "This is very nice....

Colin:  I nod, stroking the cloth over him once more, not out of necessity, but because I like to watch him stretch and move beneath my touch. He reminds me of nothing so much as a big cat, replete after feeding, and ready to lay back and be petted. So I shall. His eyes close for a moment, and his face has softened, erasing a lot of the stern harshness I'd seen at various points tonight. Eighteen...so young to be looking so serious. I wring the cloth out once more and stroke the heat down him, smiling when he moves with me, arching into it. "I've tea and aspirins, if you're wanting something for the soreness."  Time to move back; the water is growing cool. He opens his eyes and touches my mouth again, one long, slim finger stroking over my bottom lip, his eyes studying my face. I grin at him. "I know what the rumors on campus say about me, lad. 'The queer professor', and all that rot. Just goes to show, appearances can be deceiving, yes?"?

Michael:          They do say that about him; I can't deny it.  I feel a slow grin spread over my face.  "I can personally attest to your...virility.  Twice in two hours, and a damned fine show both times."  That seems to please him; a rich chuckle rumbles from him, and he gives the line of dark hair arrowing down my belly an impudent tweak. 

He moves off the bed, and I work my way off also, tugging down the covers, sliding in, tucking a couple of pillows behind my back so I can sit up.  He sets a tray between us, settling across from me, and pours some tea, handing me a china cup with faded pink roses.  Chamomile, hot and good.  I take the aspirins he offers; no sense in being macho about it.  I ache, and shift over mostly to one hip.  He has a saucer of vanilla biscuits; I remember how Cook loved them so, how she would pass them out to me secretively when I was very small.  I take one; I've never been much for sweets, but I figure I can use the energy.  He has a clock on his bedside table; it's almost midnight.  I've been up since sunrise, getting out to run, have had school, practice, and then spent the night getting myself fucked.  Little wonder I'm tired; even my energy has its limits.

 

Colin:  "Good to see even youth has its limits." He hadn't actually yawned yet, but I was feeling wilted and it was somehow reassuring to know Michael was as well. I dunk my biscuit in my tea, considering. I've not had an overnight guest in a while, especially one of my students. Never one of my students.  I've gone out of my way to avoid bedding my students in fact; it tends to make things complicated, later on. When his cup is empty I pour him another; it'll help relax him as much as the aspirin. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

 

Michael:          I consider his question, then grin at him.  "Certainly not my morning run."  He laughs, helps himself to another biscuit.  "Other than that, no.  I'll be free for some private tutoring."

Colin:  "Very up close and personal tutoring, Michael." I lean forward and brush my mouth over his, then across his cheek. "I'll show you what it is to make love to someone. You needn't be in love to make love, but it has its merits as much as fucking does. Slow, hot, sweet...they can always segue into fast and furious." He's stiffened again, barely perceptible, but then, I'm nearly on top of him, too. I wonder what it is about taking his time, about lovemaking, that makes him so nervous? He's youthful, impetuous, yes. But that doesn't null him from being able to slow down and enjoy it. I steady my cup and press my mouth harder to his, closed, still, an almost chaste kiss. He relaxes, then pulls back from me, something flashing in his eyes. Not...anger, exactly...but something. "What, lad?"

Michael:          "Nothing."  All this makes me think of Ian; the sweetness, the gentleness, and it makes me uncomfortable.  I have a momentary urge to flee; common sense makes me stay in place.  I've no auto, and it would be hellaciously cold walking back to my flat if I couldn't get a cab.  So I stay, making myself relax.  It's just kindness on Colin's part; he can have no idea of how much it makes me think of Ian.  I've never been one much for introspection, and lying naked in a man's bed doesn't seem to be the time to start.  I hand him my cup, and settle down into the warmth of the covers.  I'm warm from tea, warm from the covers, my body sated and exhausted, and I'm beginning to get sleepy.  I tug the covers up to my bare shoulders, and make myself smile at him.  "I think I've worn myself out tonight."

 

Colin:  It's a far cry from 'nothing', but I'll not press. We all have our secrets; we're all entitled to having secrets. One night in my bed doesn't earn me the right to his, and I'm not certain I'd want them anyway. I know I have things I'd not want anyone else to know about me. I set the cups on the tray, and set the tray on the floor, pushing it away from the bed. It's late, and I'm worn out, as well. I click the light off beside the bed, throwing the room into darkness. The light from over the stove gleams faintly down the hall, but otherwise it's dark. And warm. Michael is a welcome, solid presence beside me, and it doesn't take but a minute to scoot over onto my side to curl around him. I pet him slowly, my hand stroking over his side until he relaxes back against me. "Rest easy, lad. I'm not here for your secrets. I just want to hold you, if it's all right."

Michael:          Sometimes I forget how much I love to be touched.  Colin's slim soft hands move slowly over me, petting gently, and I can't help but relax beneath them, uncurling from my tight knot.  After a moment, I snug close into him, rubbing my body against his with a small sigh.  Nice.  Very nice.  His hand strokes me until I get very sleepy, then slips down to cup me, his fingers warm.  His thighs curl into my own, spooning against me.  He's smaller, so he doesn't cover as much of me as I'd like, and my legs are longer proportionally.  But I like it.  His breath is warm against my shoulder, slow and even, and before I realize it, I drift off to sleep.

Colin:  I fall asleep listening to Michael's even breathing, feeling his skin warm against mine. When I wake the sun is slanting through the windows, early morning golds and pinks peeking through the blinds. Michael has shifted onto his belly, and my arm is resting across his back, one hand cupping his ass. Not a bad way to wake up, for sure. I stroke him lightly, wondering how he feels, but not ready to wake him yet. That he's still sleeping is a pretty good sign of how tired and worn out he was last night; I know from brief conversations with him before and after class that he's a distance runner, and gets up nearly every morning to run as the sun comes up. Well, today, he can take part in a different sort of exercise. I roll closer to him, cupping and stroking his bum lightly, letting my lips play along his neck, and the smooth expanse of his back. He shivers in his sleep, then smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he makes a quiet noise. It almost sounds like a name, but it's such a soft sound, I'd be hard-pressed to swear to it. Not quite ready to wake then. That's fine. I ease myself away from him and lever out of bed, taking a moment to stretch before heading for the bath. A bit further down the hall after, to put the kettle on and lay bread out for toasting. I'm not sure what Michael likes to eat, but if he's like most teenagers, it's anything that's not secured down. I like sex as a wake up, but I'm hungrier than usual this morning. Brekkie first, before anything.

He's rolled onto his side this time, and I kneel on the bed and kiss his shoulder, then his neck, whispering into his ear, "Wakey wakey, lad. Time to be up and about."

Michael:          I shift, drifting up from a heavy, leaden sleep.  I'd been up half a dozen times, as I'd predicted, getting rid of the ale; my body wasn't accustomed to alcohol.  A soft mouth pressed kisses against my shoulder and neck, whispered into my ear.  I was warm and comfortable, and didn't particularly care to move.  Fingers combed through my hair, pushed it from my forehead.  Nice. Slowly I rolled to my back, opened my eyes.  Odd-colored eyes, golden-brown, gleamed down at me from beneath a tumble of chestnut curls, and I blinked up at him, wondering what the hell he was doing in my bed.  Then my eyes moved around, looking, and I realized that the situation was far different; I was in his bed.  "Colin?"

Colin:  He's looking at me with a curious mix of fear and uncertainty, his eyes dark and wide. I stroke his forehead again, settling myself cross-legged beside him. "Yes?"

Michael:          My head pounded like a bass drum from a combination of smoke and alcohol.  "Nothing.  I remember now coming back here."  I shifted a little, and my arse twinged fiercely.  "And simply coming."  The snarky reply made me feel more myself, and I rub my forehead a moment.  "What time is it?"

Colin:  "Just gone nine." I resist the urge to ask him if he's always bad mannered in the morning, but just barely. "If your head, or your arse, still hurt, I've more aspirin in the kitchen. You can have a cuppa, and some breakfast, and take some more." I eye him, watching his long body stretching out. "The offer for lessons is still good, unless you'd like to go on home."

  

  1. His mouth tastes of orange juice, and I laugh against his lips. "Good morning Professor." 
  



Colin:  Ahh, better. Perhaps he's just one who takes a few moments in the morning to wake up. I wake up easily, quickly, but not everyone does. I return the kiss, my fingers burying themselves in his short, but thick hair. "Good morning to you, too, Michael." Another kiss, this one with a quick nibble to his lips, then a kiss to his chin. "If you're a good lad with your lessons, perhaps we can even see about homework, eh?"

Michael:          He smells good.  I pull him down further into the bed, and he doesn't protest.  His cheeks are only slightly roughened with a beard, unlike mine; for the past year or so, I've had a thick morning beard.  I rub my cheek against his, then nuzzle at his throat, settling between his legs, pushing against him; I'm already hard.  "I'm hungry."  I nip at his earlobe.  "What about a toss, then a bit of brekkie?"

Colin:  "No penetrating. You're too sore, lad." He has beautiful eyes, when they're smiling. And whiskers. Heaven help me, I'll have whisker burn later. I like the sting, though, and rub back, shivering at the sensation. He's not only hungry for food, but for touch, for someone to give a fuck about something more than just his body, I think. That's fine; anonymous fucks are great, but sometimes it's good to have a friend, as well. A fuck buddy. I wrap my arms tighter around him, rubbing up against him. "Frottage, Michael. Rubbing together for pleasure. Slow, easy, then harder...faster. 'Til we both come. You said you like girls, yes? This is like if you'd take the car for the night, for a date, and did heavy petting in the backseat." All of my heavy petting was usually with a chum of mine from school, but it's close enough. Michael looks at me blankly, and I wonder what sort of childhood he had. I shake my head and arch up against him, moving so I can suck on his neck again. "It's just as good as the other. Trust me."

Michael:          I'm familiar with this, though I've not done it for ages, and never knew what it was called.  I've done this in school, in one bed or another, with one friend or another, before I worked up the nerve to actually touch their cocks, long before I ever knew what it was to suck a cock, or fuck.  Sometimes it was with clothing; if I could talk them out of their clothing, to be naked against me, it was always better.  Like this.  It's good, feeling Colin warm against me, under me, his legs wrapped around my hips.  He has such a pretty mouth that I want to kiss him, and lean down to do it, parting his mouth, slipping my tongue over and around his.  Our hips work together, and his cock, surprisingly big and thick, rubs against mine, the way slicked by sweat and pre-come.  When I release his mouth, I laugh softly.  "This is what children do, not adults."  But my tone is non-confrontational; it does feel nice.

Colin:  "Feels bloody fantastic...." I gasp softly when Michael bites my lips, then reach with my hands to pull his head down further, pressing my mouth tight against him again. I love to do this. I love everything about sex, and I'm looking forward to teaching Michael all I know, all the different ways to enjoy sex. Slow, fast, hard or easy, it's all wonderful. "Not just...for children, lad...good for adults, too...." The words come harder now, as I strain upward against him, feeling his muscles bunching and flexing under my hands. Another kiss, hot and long, slick tongues teasing each other, then another, until we have to part in order to breathe.

Michael:          He's right; it is good.  I'd forgotten just how good, though; once I learned about fucking, I'd let this pretty much fall by the wayside as a boy's activity.  But his mouth is sweet, and I like how he feels thrusting up against me.  I guide one of his hands down to my arse, between my cheeks, and hiss as he rubs lightly across my opening.  Even that little bit of stimulation is too much.  "So you were bloody right," I murmur, and press my mouth over his, teasing my tongue into his mouth again.

Colin:  I laugh into the kiss; I suspect Michael Pierson doesn't much fancy admitting someone else is right about something. Especially if it stands in the way of something he wants. He won't be that sore by tomorrow, however; his body is accustomed to fucking, to taking a good pounding. I'd wager he'll probably be begging for tongue and fingers by this afternoon. I knead his cheeks with my fingers, pulling him tighter against me, using his body to give myself leverage. Feels so good. Simple pleasure, but so wonderful. I open my eyes for a moment to see dark grey staring at me, unreadable expressions lurking there. He breaks it by winking, and grinding his mouth down harder on mine. Bloody sod.

Michael:          It takes longer to get to orgasm, and it isn't the mind-rattling one I get from fucking, but it's still good. I clutch him tightly to me and grind against him, pumping my completion, pulling away from his mouth and burying my face in his neck with a long, loud moan.

 

Colin:  It takes me just a moment past his to spend myself against him; I can feel the flood of warmth, of thick, sticky fluid, spreading between us, coating our bellies. We move against each other for another moment or two, hips slowing down as we rest against the other. I nuzzle my face in his neck, licking at the sweat dripping there. It's warm in here now, especially with our activities. He tastes just as good now, as last night. "Oi...not bad, for children's play, eh?"

Michael:          "Not bad."  I roll us to our sides; I know I'm not light.  Colin doesn't release me as I expect, but nuzzles at me, pets me gently.  It's...nice.  The girls I've slept with liked to touch, and truthfully, that's why I liked to sleep with them; they liked to touch and cuddle afterward.  Most men don't.  Tentatively, I trail a hand down his back, over his hip; his skin is every bit as soft as a woman's, though his body is undeniably a man's.  He makes a soft sound, seemingly to enjoy it, so I do it again, relaxing into his embrace.  Nigel would've called me a queer for such gentle, easy touches, would have laughed and pushed me away, and either gotten up, or gone off to sleep again.  But Colin doesn't.  He practically purrs beneath my hands, and I like it.  I like it enough to kiss him again, to let his hands wander and caress.  Our kisses aren't the hurried, hard, overpowering ones, but soft ones, almost as if he's afraid I'll bolt.

Colin:  I sometimes think it's things such as this that define the difference between boys like Michael, who like to fuck around with other men, and men like me, who are queer. I don't shy from it; it's who and what I am. I don't think Michael will ever be completely like me, he'll want different things. But it's wonderful to lie here, wrapped in his arms, holding him in mine, kissing softly and unhurriedly. There is so much more to sex than what we had last night. So much. I roll us once more, letting him take my weight, holding myself just above him, hands on the bed, so I can stare down at him, into those incredible grey eyes. I don't know what he sees when he stares back at me, but his mouth turns up a bit at one corner, teasing me into kissing it, trying to find the smile I see hinted at. I back down him, kissing again, tasting his skin, his sweat, licking as I move down enough to taste our seed mixed together on his belly. He makes a soft, startled sound when I flick my tongue over his navel, then within it, swishing it all around to catch the droplets pooled there. I grin back up at him, licking my lips. "Protein drink; best breakfast known to man."

 

Michael:          I can't help but laugh.  I pull a pillow down and tuck it under my head, spreading my legs, giving him room to work.  He's never in a hurry, it seems; he always seems to take his time.  I don't mind at the moment, I like the attention, like the feel of his tongue on my skin.  And there really is no hurry; we have all day, and as much of tomorrow as I care to spend here.  He laps at me like a great cat, slow and languid; once in awhile those golden-brown eyes raise to look at me through those long, long lashes.  He nuzzles around my groin, licks up my cock.

 

Colin:  I like the taste of semen anyway, have swallowed every time I blew someone, at least after the first time or two, when I spit it out. An acquired taste, I think; not everyone I know will swallow. A few - very few - won't blow another guy without a rubber, and while I appreciate what they're trying to do, I'd miss it, too much. Not to feel the heat, taste the salt and unique flavor that cock has...I can't imagine. I nuzzle Michael's groin again, sucking on his balls, then lick back up to his belly, where I rest my head, looking up at him. "When you blow a guy, do you swallow?"

 

Michael:          "Yes.  I like it...but I didn't, at first.  But I like for my partner to swallow, so it's not fair for me to spit if he swallows."  My belly chooses that time to rumble loudly, and I grin ruefully.  "Didn't you say something about some brekkie?"

Colin:  I laugh and slap his thigh gently, then push off, sitting myself on the edge of the bed for a minute to regain my equilibrium. "Yes, I did...and the kettle's probably boiled dry, by now. I have bread for toast, and some eggs and tomatoes, and I can probably scare up some sausages as well, if you'd like. I don't eat a lot of meat, but my brother was here last week, for a few days, and he bought some." Michael bounces off the bed, then stands in place doing some stretching exercises; it's lovely to just watch his body moving.

Michael:          The stretching causes twinges in certain places, but I must move.  Colin watches a moment, then ambles out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen, after pulling on a disreputable-looking blue robe.  I shrug and follow him, nude; I've nothing clean to wear, he's not offered me anything, and I'm not the least shy about my body, anyway.  I sit on one of the chairs, one knee drawn up to my chest.  He has a tomato on the table, and without saying anything, I get up and wash my hands, returning to sit partially on one hip, and slice it onto a saucer.  I've helped Cook and Nona in the kitchen often enough that I'm not in danger of slicing off my thumb or anything like that.  A thought pops into my head and out my mouth before I can censor it.  "Have you ever had sex with women, Colin?"

Colin:  I rescue my kettle; it wasn't dry, but close. Good thing; I can't really afford to go getting another one. Another bit of water from the tap, and back onto the burner. The eggs I'll do sunny side up. When I turn from the stove he's looking at me, one eyebrow cocked. I shake my head. "No." A pause, while we stare at each other, then I raise my eyebrow. "You have, yes?"

Michael:          "I can't say it surprises me, but you're just the sort of fellow a bird...a young lady likes.  Me, I'm nothing much to look at, but you've a fine face, good body, lovely speaking voice."  I find I'm gesturing with his tomato knife, and put it down.  "They probably chat you up all the time, don't they?"  I've not answered his question, but I know he won't let me forget it, either, so we'll get back to it in time.

Colin:  I busy myself getting china and silver out, considering his questions, my answers. Clean cups, since the others are still on the floor in my bedroom. "My sister's friends always wanted to...I did date one, once, but the minute she wanted to make out, the first kiss, I knew it wasn't for me." I look down at myself, considering. "I don't know that I'm so special to look at--you have much more presence than I have. Girls can sense when a bloke's interested, and I don't send those signals. Most who want to chat me up now figure out quickly enough that I'm not what they were looking for."

 

Michael:          "Ah."  Colin has cut bread for toasting, and I break off a crust to nibble.  I'm starving.  "I've slept with girls...many of them."  I don't mean it as a boast; I *have* slept with a lot of them.  "They're soft, and they smell good, and I like the way they taste.  They like to kiss, and like to touch, and I like that.  Lovely creatures, but you fuck them three or four times, and they start going on about marriage and children and all that sort of rubbish." 

I paused, thinking.  "Sex is...different, I think, for them than it is for us.  So I sleep with a lot of men.  It's just much simpler.  I can hang about with Nigel, and know that whenever I want a toss, he'll oblige, and not natter on about a relationship.  When I want to do the fucking, there's always someone available, somewhere.  And of course, you can be sucked off anytime, anywhere.  It's just easier.  Women need a bit of wooing...with men, all you have to do is drop your trousers."  I laugh, and it's just a little bitter, which surprises me.

 

Colin:  I turn the heat down under the eggs, then turn around to lean against the counter, staring at Michael, my arms crossed over my chest. So young to be hurt the way he's been. I have no idea where that thought came from; the only thing I know about him for certain is he likes to fuck, he likes to run, and he gets decent marks in my class. "Yes, women are different. Seldom does one sleep around without there being a reason...looking for a husband, generally, or else whoring for an economic reason, perhaps. I have four sisters, Michael. I'm the youngest of six. And I watched them...how they acted, reacted, what they did. Each had boyfriends...and if their beaus didn't treat them as they thought they ought be, then they moved along. Marriage was paramount. Not so for men, no. But." I turn back to the kettle, beginning to bubble and steam merrily. "Not every man will just drop his trousers for a bit, either. Some are looking, too...they just have to be more...discreet about it." I hand off the plates to him, and slide the eggs onto a bigger platter, adding the toast. Butter and jam from the refrigerator, and the tea fixings on a tray. Michael's looking at me, a concerned look creeping across his face. I wave my hand at him, shaking my head. "I have no designs on a relationship, with you, nor anyone else. Relax, lad, you're safe with me. But..." I trail off for a moment, trying to decide how best to phrase this, not wanting to scare him away. "If touch is what you want, or need, I'll give it to you. I like to touch, sometimes, too."

 

Michael:          "I like it," I say shortly, and dish out eggs for both of us, giving him the lion's share, and most of the toast.  Somehow, I don't think he has much to eat, and I can eat anytime.  Maybe I'll treat him to lunch, or something.  I catch myself scowling, and make my face smooth out.  Colin is a nice fellow; he doesn't deserve me being an ass to him.  I take a bite of eggs." Is that part of your lessons?"

Colin:  Unsteady ground, this. I shake my head, my hands busy fixing tea. "Only if you want it to be. What I offered last night...your lessons, if you will...is simply to show you how to slow down, how to get more out of what you're getting now. Pleasure is like a fine wine; it must be sipped slowly, savored. Touching..." I give a short bark of a laugh, more than two decades of being different and hiding it until I didn't care any longer rising to the fore. "Everyone knows only queers touch...and we both know I'm queer. But you said yourself...you know the rumors. If you're seen with me, it will be assumed you're fucking me...and that's as it should be." I hand him a cup, catching his eyes, seeing the surprise, possibly uncertainty, and many other things I can't define there. "You're safe with me, Michael. No one needs know what's between us."

Michael:          I tip a bit of milk into my tea, add a sugar cube, and stir.  I study him a moment.  "Doesn't it bother you?"

Colin:  I push my eggs around, not as hungry as I'd thought. "Doesn't what bother me? Being...~suspected~ as being queer?"

Michael:          I'm not quite sure of the real question now, or if it's even pertinent. I scratch the back of my neck, trying to put it into words that won't insult him.  "That...that they think you take the bottom all the time...that you're nelly, when you're not...oh, hell, I'm not really certain what I'm trying to say...."

Colin:  Bugger breakfast. I push the plate back, taking my cup into my hand, holding it cupped, leaching the warmth from it. I know - I think - what he's trying to ask, and I'm not sure how to reassure him, nor if I even want to try. I shake my head. "Why should it bother me, Michael? What's wrong with being bottom? If that's where pleasure is found...is there anything wrong?" I shift my gaze from my cup, to him, to his eyes, wide and unsure. "Does it bother you?"

Michael:          "No...."  I trail off, thinking.  "I like being f...being on the bottom sometimes.  It feels good.  I like being on the top, too.  I do that more often.  I like men...I like women.  It...doesn't really matter, does it...as long as it feels good?" 

Somehow, it shouldn't be this difficult; and I'm not certain why it is.  I'm not sure why I think Colin should be upset over being thought nelly, when he knows what he is, who he is, what he likes.  Why is taking the bottom necessarily worse? *I* take the bottom, and no one's ever accused me of being queer.  But then, I sleep with women, too, enough that it seems to cancel out when I sleep with men.  I lean back in my chair, ruffle my fingers through my hair.  "I guess...it's all just names, isn't it?  If they wanted to, they could call me queer, I guess, and I...I would be.  But that's not necessarily true, either, because I like women.  Is there a name for that?"

Colin:  I smile, a little ruefully. I think I was this innocent, once, a long time ago. I shake my head to clear it, then nod. "It is just names...but it's a lot more than that, too. It ~shouldn't~ matter, but it does, to a lot of people. Your mum and dad, it would probably matter to them. It did, to mine. It would matter to friends...to the bigger boys in secondary school. To the girls who would call names to your face when you stuttered out a reason not to go out with them." I stop, not wanting, and never intending, to share that much. Not things that are best buried and kept there. I take a long drink of tea, glad it's cooled, else I'd be scalding my throat. "It shouldn't matter, Michael. If it feels good, we ought to be free to pursue it. Perhaps, someday, we will. For now...it doesn't bother me any longer, because I don't let it. I can't let it. I can't change what I like, or want...so there's no point in it. As for you...the word you're wanting is 'bi-sexual'. You like both. Hell, you like it all, don't you?"

Michael:          He understands, and he's not angry.  I almost laugh, and do grin at him.  "Yes, I guess that's true.  I like almost everything I've tried.  If I don't like it, I don't do it again.  I've never really thought much about it; I just do what feels good...the opportunity that comes up."

Colin:  I smile back, happy to see some animation in his face, some happiness in his eyes. Another sip of tea, and then I push my fork around my plate. Cold eggs are unappetizing at best, but I haven't enough to spare to just throw it into the rubbish bin. I take a piece of toast and dip it into the cooling yolk, chewing thoughtfully. "If you like it, keep doing it, so long as no one is being forced against their will, nor put in harm's way. If you don't like what you're doing, then stop." I reach out with my bare foot and tease my toes over his leg, grinning. "And remember, the lessons learned best are those practiced faithfully, with your take-home assignments completed as well."

 

Michael:          I laugh, and swat at his foot.  "I've never failed to turn in a take-home assignment, Professor.  But I think...that I'll need special instruction with these lessons.  Private lessons."

Colin:  I slide my foot a bit further up his leg, nudging at his thigh. "I'll give you as many private lessons as you feel are needed, lad. I pride myself on being a thorough teacher." His laugh is full-bodied, rumbling from his chest, spilling out over us. He swats at me again, and I shift, catching his leg beneath his knee, teasing until he squirms in the chair, affording me another look at his body; something I think I could admire indefinitely.

Partway through Great Expectations, I hear him rise, then watch him stretch as I peer out over the top of the book.  He still has that ratty robe on, and I have an almost irresistible urge to poke my finger through a little hole I see in the side of the robe.  It's only through the greatest of willpower I don't.  "I wouldn't mind if you'd drive me over to the flat to pick up some clothes.  I don't mind being naked, but any visitors you might have might not be so accommodating."

Colin:  I laugh, settling myself on my knees beside the couch. "I doubt I'll have any visitors, but we can take a drive, go to your flat. You probably ought to check on young Ben; Stephens has a reputation, as I'm sure you know." I lean in closer to him, my face just inches from his. "First lesson, lad. Anticipation. Build up." I can fairly feel the shiver work over his body when I brush my lips over his, not settling, just back and forth, teasing lightly. He raises up, a half-formed moan vibrating out of him, and I back away, laughing softly. "A kiss here, a caress there, easy touches. Seduction, Michael." One more kiss, then I pull back, looking at him. "Come with me, we'll find you something to wear back to your flat. I wouldn't want anyone to think I was a poor host, making my guest freeze." I raise up off him slowly, intentionally not moving back, waiting to see what he'll do now.

 

Michael:          The urge to simply wrap my hands in the front of his robe and pull him to me is great.  I could; it would be easy.  But I'm here to learn.  And I'll be damned if I fail.  I lick my lips; I can taste him there.  "Seduction 101.  A kiss here..."  I press my mouth softly to his, the tip of my tongue flicking out to tease along his upper lip.  "...a caress there..."  I slip my hand into the front of his robe, smoothing over his soft skin as I press another kiss to his throat.  "Easy touches..."  My hand slides from his chest to caress his lower belly, a barely-there touch, and another caress, this time a fingertip over the length of his cock.  I'm rewarded by the quick intake of his breath, and pull back with a smile.  It takes so little to make me excited, and this is no exception.  I'm hard as I stand up, my cock swaying before his face, and I look down on him kneeling there in the floor, his lips inches from my flesh.  I run a finger up my length, over the head of my cock peeking out from my foreskin, before deliberately turning away, catching up my denims from the chair, on the way to the bedroom.

 

Colin:  "You bleedin' little sod." I laugh quietly, hearing his snort. He's a quick study, definitely. Perhaps too quick. I shake my head to clear it, licking my lips to taste where he kissed me. My entire body tingles, definitely with anticipation, but unlike Michael, hard and aching already, I'm only mildly turned-on. It wouldn't take a lot more than that, but not right now; not when we can go out and run some errands. Anticipation; he needs to learn that it can make things so much better. I stand, slowly, pulling my robe around me before heading for my bedroom.

Michael:          I get the denims on, but I'm hard, and they're tight even under the best of circumstances.  I have to lie on the bed, hold my cock down, and zip up, which Colin finds vastly amusing.  Once I stand up, I'm forced to do some rearranging.  It will go down in a bit, but until it does, I'll be damned uncomfortable.  I fish the condoms and a small tube of lube from the pockets and place them on Colin's bedside table, for later. I don't mind putting on my smelly shirt and sweater; it's only for the trip over, and once I'm at the flat, I can pack a rucksack full of clean clothes.  So I don't bother to tuck in my shirt, and just pull my sweater over my head, reaching up to finger comb through my hair.  Slipping on my socks and trainers, I'm ready.

Colin:  It takes all I can do not to howl at Michael's antics of zipping up his trousers. Poor lad; he'll be uncomfortable for a bit, 'til that goes down. I dress quickly, ratty old denims, a sweatshirt that says "Harvard University" in fading letters, and some trainers that have seen better days. And why not? Its Saturday, my day of rest. I don't have to try and look professorial; Michael's seen me without my clothes enough now.

It takes three tries before the Fiat turns over, then we're motoring merrily down the road on the way to the other end of town, where he's said his flat is. A nicer area, that; I'm impressed. Not only a nicer area, but living off-campus as a first-year student. Most can't afford to do that. Lucky for Michael he can; he wouldn't have near as much chance for fucking games in the dorms. "After we get your clothes, I'd like to stop by the market and get a few things. That way we won't need to leave again before you're ready to go home." I glance over at him. "And that's whenever you're ready. No rushing; you can stay as long as you like. But if you're staying past today or tomorrow, best bring your schoolbooks; I can give you a lift to classes Monday."

Inside the flat, it's warm and dark; Ben's not pulled open the drapes yet, so that means he's either not been home, or he's still in bed.  A trail of clothing leads to his bedroom; I pick them up as I go.  I'm not pathologically neat, but I do like to be able to move about the place without tripping over things.  I knock on the door, then open it to pitch his clothing in.  I can see his red hair poking out from beneath the covers; he's evidently alone.  I chuck his clothing to the floor and close the door.  I wonder just how late he stayed out.  Doesn't matter; I'm not his mum. 

On to my room, Colin in tow.  Although I have the funds to live like a prince, I don't.  My needs are simple, and so my room is simple, almost austere.  Like Colin, I have a vast array of books, but unlike him, the accoutrements of my athletic career lie about.  Looking about, he can spot my interests easily; riding, archery, rowing, running.  A chess set, a backgammon set.  Ben and I have been playing chess a bit; it stays out for the random game or two.  He's never quite caught on to backgammon, though. 

I haul my rucksack out from the closet and give it a toss onto the comforter, dumping out books and sorting through them for Monday's batch.  Then the clothes; a couple pair of denims, clean socks, a shirt, a sweater, and a couple of sweatshirts.  I probably don't need so much, but one never knows.  I strip off the old smelly clothes and pull on clean denims and a dark green sweater.  To the bath to get brush and toothbrush, and I'm ready once more.

Colin:  "Bring the backgammon board, if you'd like. We'll play a bit of a game." I haven't played in a while, preferring chess, but I used to be pretty good at it. Perhaps Michael and I can do something more than just fucking. Sex is great, but it shouldn't be the basis of a relationship of any sort...and I find myself thinking I'd like to be his friend, if he'll let me. Not just his lit prof, or his tutor in amorous matters...but his friend.

He has a nice flat; roomy, open, cheerful. I know he's a first-year student, so he's only been here perhaps six months, if he's been here for the whole first term before now. It looks lived in...though I'm not certain I wouldn't prefer my own place over this one. I shrug; not like it matters, I'm not going anywhere. "Ready?"

Michael:          I manage to wedge the backgammon board into the rucksack; already, it's bulging.  At the door, I stop him with a hand on his arm, and lean in to kiss him, simply because I like to kiss him, I like his mouth.  He smiles up at me, and then we're off again, this time to the market.  I'll be buying the groceries; it's the least I can do since I'll be staying there with him.  If nothing else, my mum taught me to be hospitable and generous.

Colin:  Marketing with someone else along was an interesting experience, and a reconfirmation of why I would never want a permanent, live-in relationship. I don't think there was anything put in the cart that Michael and I didn't quibble over. Milk, eggs, cheese, some pickles, bread, more tomatoes, tea and sugar, along with a few other sundry things I remembered needing as we meandered about the store. And then checkout. He wanted to pay; I finally gave in and let him, trying to be as graceful about it as I could, but it stung a bit. Did he think I was unable to provide for us, at least for the weekend? Not that funds aren't tight and all...but that wasn't even the issue. I was grateful for the assistance, and hated feeling grateful, and now I was feeling churlish, childish, and inordinately ungrateful, all at the same time. For the second time that day, I wondered who he was, who pays his bills. No eighteen year old has the sort of living arrangements Michael has, on his own. Nor the cash to pay for groceries at the market. I finally shrugged it off, using the cool air outside to help me calm down; the Fiat circulates cold air very well. If I didn't run the heater most of the time, I'd probably freeze to death.

In between fits and fusses, we managed to have a good time chatting about some of the different classics on his reading list for the semester, as well as what he could expect from second year Lit, which I wasn't certain I'd be teaching next semester or not. We discussed the merits of archery versus rowing, for strength and endurance, and talked about being one of many siblings. I was surprised to learn he's the eldest of a family of five.

It was after four when we returned to my small flat, and it took both of us to wrestle in his rucksack and two bags of groceries. My stomach was grumbling; eggs and toast hours ago apparently didn't suit for proper nutrition. "If you want to settle at the kitchen table for a bit, I'll put up a chicken pie, and get it baking."

Michael:          He doesn't want help putting away his things, so I settle at the table, drawing one leg up and munching on one from a bag of apples I'd slipped into the cart.  I'm not certain why, but he'd been thoroughly pissed off at the market when I'd bought the supplies. I'd thought it only fair; I'm so active that I eat almost all the time.  He'd given in without a row, which actually surprised me; he's known in class to never back down from an argument.  I open the jar of pickles and eat one or two of those, also as he works.  The radio is back on, and I hum in time to the music.  Ben listens to it all the time, so I know most of the words.  It's nice and homey, almost like being at home with Cook, studying at the kitchen table as she worked and talked with me.  "I like your flat very much.  Reminds me of home."

Colin:  I look up from where I'm measuring out flour and such, then look around at the small space. Somehow I can't imagine him in a place like this; it seems...off, somehow. But then, I don't know that, do I? "Thanks. I've been here for forever now, I think. Settled when I first started teaching; stayed because I liked it." It's odd, at best, doing this. Sleeping with one of my students. Something I never thought I'd do. Something I'd sworn I wouldn't do. It's not as though Michael hasn't reached his majority; he's legal, in that respect. But--he's my student. With nearly twenty years' difference in our ages. And now, my student in more intimate affairs, as well. I clear my throat and look down at mum's recipe, smiling when I remember her cry of, 'you can't cook for yourself!'. If I didn't, who would? "Do you cook?"

Michael:          I reach for another pickle.  They'd be good on grilled cheese sandwiches---maybe later.  "I can cook enough to keep from starving...Nonna taught me to cook a little.  Saturdays are her days in the kitchen to make Italian food, generally enough for a small army.  If it's Italian, I can putter my way through it."

Colin:  The light in his eyes is amazing, transforming his face from severe to warm and welcoming. "Italian? That would explain your coloring, I suppose...no one completely native to England has a tan in the midst of early spring." He crunches the pickle and grins, his eyes lighter than I've seen yet. "Your face lights up when you speak of her...your grandmother?"

Michael:          I raise up my sweater.  "This isn't tan...this is me."  Well, helped a little by a short stay in Italy over spring break, but I won't say that.  "Did you see any tan lines?"  He laughs at me, and I pull my sweater back down. 

"Yes, Nonna is my grandmother.  Native Italian.  She stands..." I measure off about five feet from the floor.  "Tiny, but fierce.  No one crosses Nonna.  I, and my youngest sister Lizzie look like her; the rest look like Father.  I know it's not macho to be so attached to one's grandmother, but she really is very special.  She understands, when no one else does, I think."  I push away the pickle jar; many more, and there won't be any left for later.

Colin:  I give him a smile and turn back to my pastry. I dislike making pastry crusts; hate it with a passion, in fact. What makes it even more horrid, is that I do them rather well. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. Once the pastry is set into the pie tin, it's a quick, easy process of combining chicken, some leftover carrots and peas from the freezer, some mushrooms, and a tin of chicken broth, thickened with flour. I settle the pie into the oven, then wipe my hands off. Michael's staring off into space, watching me, but not seeing me, probably lost in thoughts of home. Even if schooled in boarding schools like so many in this country, life at University is very different, often frightening. I move behind his chair and bend enough to wrap my arms around him, pulling him back against my chest. He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes back against me, sighing quietly when I kiss his neck, then nuzzle there. When he's tipped his head back against my shoulder, I kiss his ear, then say softly, "She sounds lovely, Michael. Do you miss her?"

 

Michael:          "Yes, I do, actually.  Probably more than Mother; definitely more than Father."  That popped out unexpectedly, but it's too late to call it back.  "I call her weekly, just to hear her call me Michele and speak to me in Italian.  And of course, to talk to Lizzie---she's five, now.  Lizzie looks like Nonna and I--dark haired, dark-skinned, foul-tempered.  It's one of the ties that bind us together against all the others."  I can't help but laugh; Lizzie in a fit would give a berserker pause.

Colin:  Not all a happy family, that's for sure. Of course, who am I to say anything? I can hear the wistfulness in his voice, even if he's unaware of it. "Michele - Italian for Michael, I would imagine." He nods against my shoulder, content for the moment to let me hold him, pet him. He reminds me of nothing so much as a wild animal, fighting against those he sees as trying to corner him. I want to reassure him I'm not trying to corner him at all, but figure the reassurance would be as frightening as the assumed cornering. I slide my hands down his chest, down to his belly, then up under the thick wool sweater, teasing my fingers over the line of fine, wispy hair there. He shivers against me, then again when I tease my lips over his neck, my tongue tracing the bright red-purple bruise half-showing over the neckline of the sweater. I bite his neck gently, then again, further up, aiming for his ear. The lobe is a tasty bit to suckle for a moment, then I whisper softly, "You're a special lad, Michael. Very special."

Michael:          My mouth parts in a soft sigh; it's lovely.  He nuzzles against my ear and throat until I wriggle against him. I turn in the chair and push his old sweatshirt up, pressing my mouth against his belly. I'm trying to remember his advice about moving slowly; before, I'd have gone straight for his crotch.  But instead, I lay a string of kisses over his belly, soft and wet and sucking.  Up his chest, to the bruise I gave him yesterday; that, I lick.  Just as I'm starting to get excited, I make myself pull back, pull down his sweatshirt, and settle back into the kitchen chair.

Colin:  I move around the chair and kneel before him, laying my head on one thigh for a moment. His hand drops to my head, fingers stroking very lightly before he pulls away jerkily. I laugh very low, very soft, and nuzzle into his groin; already his cock is stirring, filling. I reach to undo the button at the top, licking at the thin line of hair that trails down into his pants. "I'd like you clean, lad. I have a kit in the bath, and I can help you if you need it, or you can go it alone."

Michael:          His mouth working on my belly, lips soft and tongue wet and warm, makes me shiver. I lean back a little, and his fingers make interesting sweeping patterns across my flanks and lower back, almost like arabesques of desire, painting his need over my skin.  He works his way a little closer, nudging my thighs apart, rubbing his chest against my groin.  The stirring in my denims becomes definite interest. 

My fingers slide into his thick curly hair; it's so warm from the heat of his body, silky.  I rub one perfectly delineated curl between finger and thumb, then trace over the curve of his ear.  Those golden-brown eyes look up at me, and I'm vaguely aware he's waiting for an answer.  Well, hell.  I've always prided myself on having a sharp, clear mind; something about him seems to chase away rational thought and open me up for heat and warmth and desire.  I blink, then lick my lips, trying to remember what he'd said.  "Clean?  A kit?"

Colin:  I move my head just enough to breathe right over his erection; he jerks like I've just bitten him, then groans softly. I rub my cheek against him, breathing again, warm, moist puffs of air that will hit him here and there. My fingers reach to ease the zip open. "Have you ever had an enema, Michael? Internal cleansing?"

Michael:          I watch as he eases the zip down very slowly, spreads apart the fly.  My cock lies against my belly, then throbs and rises, freed.  Colin leans in, roots at the base, then licks up the length of the shaft, pulling back to blow a stream of air along wet skin that makes me shiver and moan softly with delight.  It's difficult to think. 

"No.  Perhaps as a boy once, when I was small...not since."  Leaning in, he lips along the curve, ending with a flick of his tongue over the broad head peeping out of the sheath of foreskin.  My fingers tighten in his hair, tug fractionally, wanting him to suck me, but he's an immovable object, looking up at me, his beautiful mouth wet and pink.

 

Colin:  "Then I shall help you with it." I lick again, teasing the tip of my tongue back down to trail around the head. I can almost hear the sob in Michael's voice when he takes a breath, his fingers tightening in my hair. "I want you clean for this, lad. I shan't just lick you, a swipe of my tongue over your ass." Slowly, back up over the broad head, until I feel the slight dip at the center, and wiggle my tongue against it. "I'm going to eat you, Michael. I shall lick, and suck, and bite, and wiggle my tongue into your arse until you're nearly insensate from pleasure." I open my mouth a fraction more, taking the very tip of his cock inside, tasting the bitterness of the fluid leaked all over.

 

Michael:          My hands slip from his hair; one grips the edge of the table with white-knuckled strength, the other the edge of the chair with equal fervor.  It's as much, or more, from his words, the pictures he's painted, as from the pleasure of his hot, wet mouth on me.  I can remember the man licking me last night, how good it had felt when he'd done that.  My arse cheeks clench in remembered pleasure, and my voice is embarrassingly breathy as I speak, trying not to thrust deep into his throat; Colin likes to take his time, and won't be rushed, I've learned.  "You want...to do that?  You...like...to do...that?"

 

Colin:  I lower myself enough to take in half his length, then hollow my cheeks to suck strongly as I raise back up again. Not a blowjob, just a tease. I want Michael teased and on the edge, at least for now. His breath is coming faster, short, sharp pants now. I lick my lips and smile up at him, feeling hungry. "Oh, yes. There are many, many pleasures to be had with sex...and that is one of my favorites." I lean in closer and lick the sensitive skin just above his pubes, just below his navel. Another lick, and a cool bit of air blown across the damp. "I like the taste of a man...the dark, earthy scent of that most private part of their bodies." A fine shiver works its way through my lips, and I smile, rubbing harder, feeling dampness spread under my chin, where his cock is hitting me. "I like to spread a man open, and bury my tongue deep within him, lad. It's a wonderful, dark pleasure. And I want to share it with you."

Michael:          Oh. My.  God.  I hang onto the table for dear life, fighting not to spend, not to lose it like a young boy; I'm a man, and should have better control.  His soft voice flows over me like velvet, like honey, and the pictures his words paint are like fire behind my eyelids.  My belly clenches as I ride out the urge to spend, to shoot my seed over his soft throat and chin.  I draw a deep breath, then another, and open my eyes.  "What...what do you want me to do?  I'll...I'll do it...."

Colin:  His voice is hoarse, breathless, his fingers white where they're clutching at the table and the arm of the chair. I smile, shaking my head. I don't think it's fear of the unknown; rather, heightened arousal and anticipation. I've never met another person who was such a sexual being. Michael radiated sexuality and sensuality; he just hadn't realized it yet, nor the power he held with that. "Ease back, lad. We'll give you some relief here, so you might enjoy later, more." I breathed the words against his cock, licking lightly, my hands moving to tug his denims down. When I had them below his knees I moved my head, taking him into my mouth again. I hadn't had a chance before now to really, truly taste him, and his cock in my mouth was wonderful. He leaked, a lot; his skin was salty and bitter, the velvety skin seeming to have a flavor all of it's own. I slurped once, then swallowed him down slowly, drawing out the pleasure for him.

Michael:          God in heaven, he was *good*.  He knew just how much suction, the perfect way to tease with his tongue, the right amount of wonderful but frightening scrape of teeth.  My whole body tightened, but it spiraled down to coalesce deep in my belly, drew up into my cock in a hot, hot pleasure.  I pulled off my sweater and threw it; I was vaguely aware it landed on the countertop, then slid to the floor.  I wanted to spread my legs for him, but the denims constricted me. 

As much as I hated to lose the sweet wetness of his mouth, I wanted to be naked before him.  I pushed him away, and kicked out of the denims, leaving myself nude.  So much better.  I shifted, draping one long leg over his shoulder, propping the other up on the tabletop.  It opened me wide for him, left nothing to the imagination.  I drew a deep breath.  "Please...it feels so good...."

Colin:  "It's meant to." I moved in closer to him, running my hands over his thighs, feeling the muscles flexing and rippling beneath my fingertips. Strong; he was one of the strongest men I'd had in a long time, and it excited me immensely. I cupped his stones, rolling them gently in my hand whilst I leaned back in to take him into my mouth, licking at the head before sucking him in. His hips jerked forward and I grunted as the head of his dick pushed suddenly against the back of my throat. Tears sparked in my eyes for a moment, then eased off when I pulled back a bit. I don't think he was even aware of it, but I'd need to be careful; wouldn't do to have him gag me. That takes all the fun out of it.

God, it was good to have him in my mouth! First and always a cocksucker; something I'd been doing since I was probably no more than maybe eleven or twelve, and I enjoyed it as much now as I did then. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking strong, licking as I released him, drawing him deeper into me with each breath, until I press my nose briefly against his belly before needing to withdraw. I wished I could deep throat him, but my gag reflex was too strong; I hadn't ever been able to get past that, regrettably. My free hand wandered up his stomach and chest, caressing lightly as I sucked him, feeling each quiver of his body, feeling the echoes of his moans and soft cries.

 

Michael:          I can hear myself, loud, vocal, uninhibited.  A small part of my mind is very glad he lives here, where no one can hear me.  Another small part of my mind wants to be this good at it.  His hands wander over me as he sucks and licks and nibbles; when his fingers tweak and twist my nipples, it sends a sharp, clean jolt of pleasure through me to lodge deep in my belly.  He moves rhythmically on me, curls brushing against my belly, tickling, and the sounds of his mouth sucking wetly are lush and carnal.  The scent of musk, of sex, is thick and cloying, wrapping around us like a blanket.  I let my eyes close, my head fall back against the chair.  I don't want it to stop; I want it to go on forever; I want it to progress to that hot explosion of passion and lust; I want to explode.  I'm going to explode; I can feel it tingle all along my body.  My eyes flash open, and I gasp, "Colin...I...."

 

Colin:  I move my head faster, sucking hard, my fingers rolling the nipple I'd been playing with. He's teetering on the edge; if I stopped now, I could probably make him beg for it, but I don't want that; it's counter-productive. I take a deep breath, my tongue flicking over his length as he slides out, then pull him back in, taking him nearly all the way, my throat working around him. He jerks once again, hips pushing forward, burying himself in my throat. I can feel the spasms beginning as he releases in my throat, and I draw back enough to breathe and taste him on my tongue, that thick, almost-bitter taste of semen spreading through my mouth. Delicious. Absolutely, fucking delicious.

Michael:          I release with a roar, shivering and shuddering into the piercing, swift joy of orgasm, thrusting my hips forward, seeking to bury myself within him.  My fingers grip wood, and I'm glad; I'd leave bruises on his fair skin if I gripped him.  It's blindingly pleasurable, and over far, far too quickly.  His mouth and throat work, swallowing, tongue shaping me, teasing me.  As the pleasure rolls over me, I succumb to its power, like waves breaking onto the shore.

Colin:  He's slumped back against the chair, his body loose and lax, his breathing still rough, but evening out. I nuzzle all around his privates, licking and sucking to get each drop, and to clean him as well. His leg slipped from my shoulder, and I push at it, licking at his thigh until he slides his ass forward enough to move it, allowing me to lick along the tender, sweaty skin where his leg joins his body. I bury my nose there, then back in the soft bush of curls around his cock, drinking in his scent before settling back enough to rub my hands over his thighs, light, teasing touches meant to soothe and relax. "Think that took the edge off, lad? I want you to enjoy everything this evening."

Michael:          "I wish..." I stop and lick my lips, dry from panting, "...I wish all lessons were as...stimulating."  Pleasure hums through me, sweet and comforting.  I'm in a loose, lax sprawl, long legs and arms everywhere.  Colin's hands smooth over my thighs, over my belly, and he leans in to place a kiss on my navel, another on the center of my chest.  He hovers over my mouth, and I can scent my own seed there.  I curl an arm about his shoulder, pull him closer.  "I enjoy everything you do, Colin."  Closing my eyes, I press my mouth to his, my tongue slipping into his mouth, twining with his, tasting myself.

 

Colin:  The huskiness in his voice sends a shiver through me, vibrating all through my spine, and through each nerve ending. His mouth is warm, and tastes of pickles, and fainter under that, apples. I stretch my arms up to encircle his neck, leaning into the kiss as much as I'm able from this angle, heat zipping throughout my body. I'm not unaffected; blowing him has given me a raging hard-on. I could easily rub against him like a big cat, and wank myself 'til I came, but that's not what I want. I want the pleasure and need to grow within me until it consumes me. I'm not a green boy who has to have a come right now. I can wait, can draw out Michael's pleasure. The oven timer dinging pulls my attention away from his mouth, and I glance up at him, at the redness, the slight swelling. My mouth must be swollen even more; I touch it lightly with one finger and grin when Michael winks at me. I slap his thigh lightly. "Up and into the bedroom with you, Michael. I'll bring some towels in, in a moment, and we'll get started getting you clean. I've been waiting patiently, lad, but I want a taste of you. Soon."

 

Michael:          He rises fluidly, and offers a hand.  I take it, and let him pull me up.  A slap on my bum, then he turns away to attend to the dinner.  I feel lazy and sated, and amble out of the kitchen, scratching my belly, leaving my clothes where they lay.  I'm not certain why I even bother getting dressed; I seem to be out of them as much as in them. 

He's made the bed, and I pull down the covers, and fling myself upon it, crosswise, the springs squeaking a protest.  The sheets are deliciously cool.  I lie on my belly, and rub languorously against the mattress.  I like being on my belly before him, like the way he covers me, the way he feels moving atop me.  Though many others have fucked me, Colin is a little different...no, much different.  He...cares. 

It's a vast difference, and one that I'm not certain I'm comfortable with.  A part of me wishes to pick up my clothes and run, away from Colin, from the gentleness he's shown, back into the faceless, emotionless anonymity of one-off sex with strangers.  This doesn't feel like one-off sex; I've never bothered to hang about much after the sex is done, and I've spent the night, the day, with Colin, not doing much of anything.  It's been...nice.  Comfortable.  He doesn't pressure me; he simply offers pleasure when I want it, a laughing, gently teasing nature, and incredible sex.  It's almost frightening how much I'm enjoying myself, and not just from the sex.

I hear his footstep out in the hall, and spread my legs for him, pulling a pillow beneath my cheek, before watching him enter, my eyes half-closed with anticipation.

Colin:  I leave the pie warming in the oven, then stopped to fill up large glasses of water for the both of us. I stop off in the bathroom to gather several thick towels, then head into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway. He's lying on his belly, legs spread for me, eyes dark and watchful. I feel heat curl all through my belly, reminding me my erection has only flagged, not gone away.

"You can't possibly know how good looking you are, lad." I set the glasses on the runner on the dresser, careful not to get them on the wood, then fold out the first towel. His arse is so tempting, right here before me, and I don't even bother trying to resist. His cheeks tighten when I kiss them, a little shiver chasing over him. "Up with you now, let me get the towels beneath you. We could do this is the bathroom, but I'd rather do it here, let you relax and enjoy it. Enemas can be a very sensual experience in their own right." He eyes me skeptically, but I can see the interest, the anticipation in those incredible eyes as he moves. When he's settled on the towels I light some candles on the dresser, then a cone of incense, pausing to breathe the spicy scent deeply, pulling it into myself. The radio is next, a low, soft sound of music from the late fifties and early sixties. "Atmosphere, Michael. A lot of it is atmosphere, building the anticipation a little higher." I stroke one hand down his back, over his bum, and the backs of his thighs, then return the way I came. "I'll be back in a moment. Lie here and relax."

Michael:          I try and do as instructed, listen to his soft, velvety voice, the soft music in the background; nothing jarring.  The incense is a nice touch; it smells rather like the ocean, in a way.  The room is warm, the bed soft, and in spite of a curl of anticipation, I start to relax.  I can vaguely hear Colin puttering about in the bath, opening and closing doors and drawers, and then the rush of water from the tap.  I know I'm far too quick on the mark, too quick to rush into pleasure, too impatient.  I rather like it slow; it's a nice change.  I move slowly again on the linens, rubbing my whole body against them.  The sheets smell fresh and clean; definitely not the ones we'd had such a jolly time defiling last night.  I rub my cheek against the pillow, and vaguely, I can smell the shampoo he uses, and the corner of my mouth quirks in a smile.

Colin:  I stand just outside his line of vision, watching him rub against the sheets, his entire body moving slowly, undulating in a heavy, sensual rhythm. Perhaps at some point we might try an alcohol enema, if he's willing; just enough to loosen him up and really relax him. Perhaps. At this point, just an enema is going to be a new experience. I shan't rush it; we've plenty of time.

I startle him a bit, I think; when I put a knee on the bed beside him, he jerks once, then settles under my hand. For someone who seems to enjoy the anonymous, fast angle of sex, Michael responds to--seemingly encourages--light touches, soft pats and strokes, and lots of kisses. That's fine; while I enjoy the rougher, faster angle as well, I'm a tactile person. "Prop yourself up on your elbows and knees, as best you can. I want your lovely bum in the air, Michael." He snorts, then shifts, moving into the position I've asked of him. "What I have here is an enema kit. Nothing in the bag but some warm water, and a bit of baking soda to help cleanse you. I'm going to grease the nozzle - here - up, and slide it into you. Then I'm going to hang the bag here on the post of the bed, not too high, so it doesn't flow too quickly. I want you to feel it going in slow, want it to feel good. Don't worry if you get an erection, it's very common. Normal, even." I flash him a smile. "If you cramp up, tell me. If it hurts, or you're...uncertain, tell me. Talk to me, always, lad. It's the most important thing between us." I stroke his bum again, sliding my fingers down the crack between his cheeks. "Are you ready?"

 

Michael:          His fingers stroking over me allow me to relax again.  I open my eyes and watch him as he shows me the equipment; nothing frightening about it, and I'm certainly accustomed to taking bigger things than that nozzle.  Still, the thought of taking in that much water, is a little...daunting.  But if Colin says that I'll probably enjoy it, that I'll like the experience, I don't doubt him.  Besides, I live for new experiences.  I'm tempted to try and hurry through this, to get to the "main event", as it is, but realize this is part of the pleasure he offers.  I draw a deep breath, let it out, and my body relaxes completely for him.  "I'm ready," I say softly, and close my eyes better to experience it.

 

 Colin: "Easy, lad." He flinches lightly, then relaxes again, drawing in a deep breath when I push some vaseline into him, lubing him deeply. I move away from the bed for a moment to strip out of my denims and sweatshirt, then back again, to stroke his belly, his thighs, his back.  I lube the nozzle next, then push it slowly into him, watching him, his eyes closed and face intent. I lean in and kiss him, a chaste, closed brush of my lips against his, then click open the tubing, letting the water begin its flow. He shudders once, then again when I raise the bag up to hook it on the bedpost. I know it's not flowing fast, but I also know how odd it can feel, especially if one has never had an enema before. "You're doing well, lad. So very well...."

Michael:          It's so very odd.  I feel exposed by the position I'm in---elbows and knees, bum quite high in the air---but yet, relaxed.  The nozzle was, as I'd known it would be, easy to take.  The water that flows into me is body temperature, so it's not a shock; it just feels...different.  I'm very aware of it; my belly slowly, slowly grows heavier with the water as it flows into me.  I shift a little, readjusting my position; I'm not uncomfortable, and rub my cheek into the pillow that smells of Colin.  

His hands pet me, smooth over my skin, and once in awhile I can feel the brush of his mouth in soft kisses.  It's really quite...lovely.  I feel cosseted, almost, cared for in some bizarre manner.  I let the music seep into me, the scent of the candles and incense, the warmth of the room, the heat of Colin's hands and his murmuring voice.  At some point in time, he's managed to disrobe, I discover as he presses up against me, and his cock is firm and full again.  I feel expansive and warm as the water flows into me, so slowly that a little cramp I feel forming fades quickly as I shift again.  It's so nice, this feeling of being petted and pampered in some way, that I can feel my own cock stir a little.  I'd expected to be embarrassed, but somehow, with Colin, I'm not.  He presses against my thigh, and I lean a little into his body with a soft sigh.

Colin:  "Incredible, Michael...." I don't realize I've said it aloud until I hear my voice echoing softly in the quiet. Ah, well, no harm done. I rub his belly; he's taken about two-thirds of the water, and seems to be doing okay with it. His cock is harder, not fully erect, but he's definitely enjoying some aspect of this. I kiss his back, his thigh, then move around to where I can see his face, can stroke the fingers of my free hand across his mouth. He licks at my fingers once, and I smile, bringing them to my mouth to suck before bending down to kiss him. I like kissing Michael; he always tastes clean, warm, and he certainly seems to enjoy kissing back. I spend the next minute or two exploring his mouth, sharing the lingering, but fading, taste of him with him. When he makes a soft noise I pull back, eyeing the bag. Nearly empty. I rub his back again, long, slow strokes, before reaching to clamp the tube off again. "You're done, lad. Think you can hold it for a bit?"

 

Michael:          I make a small assenting sound.  I'd like to relax onto my belly, but it's firm now with water, and I feel rather as if I'd burst if I tried to do that, so I shan't.  With quick, deft movements, he removes the nozzle, and I clamp down as the urge to void strikes me.  No.  Not yet.  One of Colin's hands strokes my back, and the other slips beneath me to smooth over my belly, feeling the tautness there.  I have an absurd rush of pride that I was able to do this without squirming or fussing.  I'm sure that later, I shall be wondering at this feeling of pride and pleasure, but I've never been one for deep introspection, so I shan't worry about it now.  "I can hold it.  You just tell me how long you wish me to hold it."

Colin:  "Let's see about five minutes, shall we? There are those out there who try for longer and longer, but there are generally reasons for it; s/m, or perhaps just someone who has a fetish for enemas." I ruffle my fingers through the hair on his chest, following the line down to his cock, standing tall and firm, now. He bites his lip when I stroke my fingers lightly down the full length, teasing at his balls, hanging loose and heavy for the moment. Back up, to smooth lightly over his belly, slightly distended, firm with the water filling him. I kiss him once more, then trail my lips down his throat, moaning softly when he moves his head, raising it so I have better access. It's Michael's turn to moan when I bite gently, licking over the small hurt to soothe it. "Tell me, if it cramps too badly before time is up. This isn't a test, Michael. When you have to void, you have to. Simple as that." Another long, slow lick, and I shift so I can suck on his Adam's apple, one hand sliding down his chest to tease lightly at his nipples.

Michael:          When he pinches my nipples, the sensation arcs in a vivid bolt down to my belly and cock, and I gasp loudly, fingers twisting in the pillow.  Intense.  Moving very slowly, carefully, keeping my bum clenched, I move onto my side.  I've always been lean, and to look down and see my belly arcing outward slightly, is a novelty.  I can feel the water move within me, gently.  I breathe softly, gently, relaxing when a surprisingly sharp pang hits.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  The urge fades away, and slowly, I shift to my back.  I'm hard; my cock arcs over my belly.  I let one hand drop to my belly, testing the tautness of my skin.  I roll my head on the pillow, and look up at Colin, sitting beside me.  "Not much longer."  I can feel the pressure building; another moment, maybe two, and I'll have to hurry to the bath.

Colin:  "Then let's get you up and on your way, eh? Best to err on the side of caution."  He gives me a quick grin, though I can see his concentration is on his body right now; how it's feeling, and what he's feeling. I move off the bed, reaching to help him slide carefully off and up onto his feet. He stops, grimacing, and I'm certain its a cramp; hard to take a pint or more of water into your body without it having ~some~ sort of effect, at least the first time out. I rub his back again, then let him push ahead of me, down the hallway. I trail behind, pulling a washcloth and some more towels out of the small closet beside the bath. "Shower off or wash up when you're finished. I'll be waiting for you, Michael."

Michael:          It's a relief when the door closes firmly behind me; I'd been afraid he was going to stay.  I couldn't have borne that; somehow, it's *too* intimate.  Another cramp, this time intense, takes me, and I barely make it before voiding, in a rush that's almost sexual in intensity.  Bewildering.

When I finish, I shower.  I feel...light.  How very odd.  Sexual, yet not.  My hands move gently over my cock, but without real purpose; it just feels good, one more sensation atop the others.  I wash myself carefully, rinse even more thoroughly.  The realization of what Colin wants to do becomes very immediate, and desire tightens my belly as I stand beneath the spray.  When I go into his bedroom, he's going to put his mouth upon me, give me pleasure like that.  I wonder if ever I could do something like that.  I wonder if he would let me do it to him, if he will ever let me atop him.

I towel off briskly, finger comb my hair.  A glance in the mirror shows the aggressive Pierson profile; Nonna had always said a nose like the one gracing Father's family came from the Roman occupation centuries ago.  Perhaps; it's a fanciful idea, one I'd thought of off and on over time.

Shaking my head and wrapping the towel about me, I step back into Colin's bedroom, and the pleasure that awaits me.

Colin:  The moment I heard the shower stop my body tightened with desire, and I had to actually take a few deep, slow breaths in order to keep my system from racing out of control. While Michael was in the bath, I dissembled the enema kit and set the pieces into the sink to soak in a solution of bleach; I'd wash them out properly later. I poured myself an ale, not wanting to become lightheaded or unsteady, but wanting the gentle rush it added to pleasure. When Michael came back into the bedroom I had it darkened, but for the candles flickering on both dressers, and on my night table. It was warm, nearly dark, the atmosphere pressing in on me. I'd stroked and petted myself whilst waiting for him, enjoying the soft pricks of pleasure it caused.

He smelled fresh, borne on the wings of steam, as he walked into the room, and I could see him, anticipatory, a bit uncertain, and definitely ready. I don't think he'd completely lost the erection since I'd settled him on the bed. I patted the bed and he sat down, half-facing me, until I stood up before him, my own cock curving up from my body in an aggressive arc. I was hungry, and not for food. At least, not the conventional sort. I leaned in and nipped at his mouth, biting gently, my words leaving me in a slow, whispery hiss. "I want you, Michael. I want to taste you, so bad."

Michael:          His mouth tasted of ale.  I sucked at his tongue, at the softness of his lower lip.  I felt tight and flushed with desire.  I tugged at my towel with one hand, the other reaching up to dive into his thick hair.  My whole body thrummed with pleasure and anticipation, and his words made me crave his touch.  "Then taste me," I said softly, and lean back onto his bed, stretching and showing him my obvious desire for him.

Colin:  "Oh, yes." I followed him onto the bed, straddling his lean hips, leaning down to kiss him. I could feel his cock, rubbing at the cleft in my bum, and I shivered and pressed back. I didn't bottom often any more, but perhaps, one day, with him....

I grinned, blinking my thoughts away, and opened his mouth with mine, tasting him, his desire; it was nearly a physical thing, as strong as mine, even if he wasn't certain what he desired. His hands were strong on my arms, holding me while I kissed him; they slid up to anchor in my hair, holding me in place for a moment while our tongues slid and stroked against each other, then he released me with a soft moan. I pushed myself backwards, rubbing purposefully against him, smiling when he arched upward, a low groan spilling from him. His neck and chest tasted of soap, and water, and his skin had a tang of salt flavor beneath all of it. I licked and sucked, biting here and there, just to hear him moan again, or to feel him wiggle beneath me. His navel had several droplets of water inside, and I stripped them out, my tongue teasing and poking at him playfully, but meaningfully. I bit at the tender skin just beneath there, my teeth scraping lightly, just enough to make him jerk, then shiver.

 

Michael:          "I like that...I like it when I feel your teeth..."  I squirm a bit beneath him, but still, I like it.  He responds with a little nip to the soft, tender skin between navel and hip, and my whole body tightens in response, curling up a bit about him.  His hands ease me back down, petting gently, settling me again.  He looks up at me, a golden flash through long dark lashes, and again I'm struck by how very beautiful he truly is.  I'd often wondered, idly, sitting in class, listening to his rich voice, watching his slim body move with more grace than a man should have, how it would feel to have him naked and in bed; now I know, and the reality is better by *worlds* than any speculation I'd made.  The impatient part of me wants to hurry him, but a wiser voice tells me to relax, to let him show me something new, and to enjoy it.  I decide to listen to the wiser voice, and relax back into the linens.

Colin:  So he likes a bit of a nip, eh? Well, that has possibilities. A blank canvas, waiting for the color; that's what Michael reminds me of. I push backward again, moving his legs forward and up; he pulls them to him, spreading wider for me. I can feel the fine vibrations running through him; I don't think he's been completely still since I set my mouth to him. His cock brushes against my face and I turn toward it, like a babe looking to suckle, taking it into my mouth. Warm, slightly bitter, slightly salty. I nurse for a moment, then release him, my hands smoothing over him again when he seeks to curl up around me. "Easy, lad. We're just starting...relax. Relax, and the pleasure will grow...will last longer."

I shift myself backward, onto my belly, reaching to adjust my cock, hard and leaking now. I can scent him, that darker, muskier part of his body, and my belly rolls with excitement. Close...so close. I lick down the folds of skin where leg and body join, then over the curve of lean, well-muscled arsecheeks, my fingers moving to spread over him, to spread him open for me. I'd prefer he be on his belly or hands and knees, but we can get to that later. For now, I rub my face against him, then bury my nose against him, breathing in the musky scent, committing it to memory. One sharp nip to the curve and he jerks against my hands, relaxing back only when I make a soft, whispery "Shhh" noise against him. When I lick down the dark cleft, he jerks again, like I've shot him.

Michael:          I feel hypersensitive, hungry, needy.  I want more, and in this position, as lovely as it is, is distracting because I have to fold up my long legs out of the way.  His wet tongue traces along the sensitive skin behind my sac, and I twitch again.  "I've...I need to move...."  He pulls back enough for me to roll from my back, and with a sigh of relief, I settle onto my belly, making room for my cock.  Ah.  Better.  I spread my legs widely for him, then shift again to fold them beneath me, offering him my arse.  I can feel my throat and face burn with a blush, and it's embarrassing to be embarrassed.

 

Colin:  He's as skittish as the finest thoroughbred, trembling beneath my hands as I spread him open, pausing for a long moment to really look at him. He trembles again, shifting, and I lean in closer, rubbing my face against him. "Easy, lad. Just having a look; admiring you, if you will." I'm not sure this goes any distance to reassuring him, or relaxing him; his body stays tense under my hands. I lick down the shadowy cleft again, snaking around the small pucker I can see hidden there. He shivers when I pass by it, then groans softly when I linger, teasing the sensitive skin all around, feeling his cheeks flexing beneath my hands. I flick my tongue lightly across the small hole, then draw it slowly across, taking time to feel the softly ridged tissue, to feel the resistance of the strong muscle. I bite very gently at it, then whisper hoarsely, "you taste good, lad. So very good...."

 

Michael:          I couldn't help but squirm a little; as often as I've offered up my arse for fucking, this is somehow more...intimate...by far.  It feels strange, and terribly forbidden, and I'm not quite sure I like it yet.  His nibbling makes me gasp, the warm wetness of his tongue swiping across me is...good.  I shift again, and make myself relax, make my bum unclench.

Colin:  "That's it...relax, Michael." I lick again and again, then stab my tongue gently against the tight muscle, knowing he'll relax fully when he's more accustomed to the sensation; that's when I'll push forward, into the heat of his body. I tease my tongue all up and down him, washing over his hole, then down over his perineum, taking a gentle nip there. He jerks under my hands, groaning softly, then again when I flick my tongue over his balls before returning to the small pucker beckoning me. This time I place my mouth over him and suck lightly, as if sucking at his mouth, or his cock. The shout of surprise from him nearly makes me laugh; I smile against his body and suck again, my tongue teasing out to trace over the ridges, and all around the edge of his pucker.

 

Michael:          I felt that all the way to my toes, and it wrings a surprised sound from me.  I glance back over my shoulder, and he looks up at me, golden eyes mischievous.  I feel myself flush again, then grin before settling back.  He'll not get the better of me, I vow, and shift again, deliberately opening myself up for him.

Colin:  "Ah, that's a good lad." I move my fingers, readjusting my position. I know it shocked him, but he's enjoying it, too, I can see from the grin he just shot me. I suck again, biting at the outer edge, teasing the rim with licks before biting again. I leave off with one hand and reach beneath him; his cock is hard, the tip damp when I stroke over it. He shudders when I squeeze him gently before returning my hand to spread him again. I stab once more, licking and sucking at the skin all around him, trailing my tongue up and down before returning to stab repeatedly, turning my tongue into a soft, small cock, pressing against the tight muscle for entry. "Let me in, Michael...I want to taste you...." I bite down again, sucking on the tender, reddening skin, pushing my tongue harder against the slick, tight opening.

Michael:          Incredible, the feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth in such a forbidden place.  Sinful.  Decadent.  The pleasure is great alone, but coupled with the forbidden, seems doubled.  I bite my lip, and my fingers clench the pillow tightly, but then I bear down, forcing my body open for him.  He makes a sound of approval, strong hands splitting me like a peach, and then his tongue slips into me, and I yowl in surprise and dark, dark pleasure.

Colin:  Ah, God, he's as good as I knew he would be, his body tight and hot, oh, so hot. It's a pleasure unlike any I've known. As good as it feels to take him, to bury my cock inside him, this is...incandescent. I can feel my need burning in my belly, spreading all through me, 'til I feel as if I must glow with it. He groans and shouts again when I work my tongue in and out, licking the rim, then biting, then sliding inside again. I lick at the inner walls hugging me, tasting the harsh, dark flavor of his body, along with the subtler, soft taste of baking soda, still clinging here. I bite down and suck hard, thrusting my tongue as far into him as I'm able to reach, before pulling back to thrust again, fucking him ruthlessly with my tongue, licking and biting at the tender, red opening as I move back and forth.

Michael:          It's much more intense than having him buried within me, and that surprises me more than anything else.  The sensations sweeping over me are almost overwhelming.  I wriggle beneath him, seeking to get closer, to get away, and I'm not certain which impulse is stronger.  He's utterly ruthless, licking and probing me, ignoring my restless movements, the embarrassingly loud sounds coming from my own throat.  Once in awhile, he slips a hand beneath me to stroke and tease my cock, making me wriggle more.  I can feel my body winding tighter and tighter, like a clock spring ready to release.

 

Colin:  I break off from devouring him, my body tight with need, my breathing as harsh and rough as his. I can't even hear the radio now, over the pounding in my temple, and the sound of blood rushing through my veins. I'm so close, so ready to spend, and if I'm judging correctly, he's teetering close on the edge as well. I push one finger into his hole, holding him open just a bit, and run my tongue along the edge, before pulling back, my voice almost rough. "Do you want me to fuck you, Michael? Or do you want to come this way, on my tongue?"

Michael:          I'm almost breathless with need, restless, fingers twisting in the linens.  I push back against his finger; it's not enough.  "Inside...I want you inside...."  I hear him chuckle roughly, his own desires obvious.  He pressed a kiss to the small of my back and withdrew, leaving me achy and incomplete.  I slip my hand beneath myself, and tug at my flesh as I hear the rattle of the condom wrapper.  "Hurry...now...."

Colin:  "Easy, Michael...we've time. We've plenty of time...." It's easy to say it; inside, I'm a mass of need and hunger, my fingers shaking while I try to roll the condom down over myself. I have to bite my lip to take my mind off how hypersensitive my cock is; I could come from my touch alone, and that's not at all how I want to end this. I pick up the small tube of gel and squeeze some out; I won't need as much; he's wet from spit. I bend down as I snug up against him and kiss him there once more for the night; I can feel his shudder when my tongue probes there just before I pull back and snug up behind him, pressing my cock against his open, wet hole. "You feel so good against me, lad...god, I love this. I could get addicted to this, easily."

Michael:          No matter that I want him, ache for him; no matter that I'm open for him---it still burns and hurts a little as he pushes in.  I push back against him with a groan, and then he slides in.  The burn shifts into a sweet fullness as my body works to accept him.  His arms slip around me tightly, holding my back to his chest, his cheek against the nape of my neck, waiting for me to adjust.  I'm strong; I can hold both our weights easily, and do, until the ache builds, and I *must* move.  I shift restlessly and push back against him; he's quick to take the unsubtle hint, slipping off my back to nestle behind me, beginning to move slowly against me, into me, heavy and full and wonderful.

 

Colin:  Slow and easy for the first few strokes, gaining momentum and strength as I move. Michael moves with me, pushing back to meet each slow thrust, soft moans and grunts coming from him. I love the sounds of sex: heavy, hoarse breathing, soft cries, the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh. And the scent that rises up to mingle with the scent of incense and candle smoke, is heavy and musky, weaving itself into my brain. I grip his hips tighter, pumping harder now, the hunger that rose whilst I was rimming him beginning to grow again into something uncontainable, something alive all of its own. One quick slap to his bum, then another, and I shiver at the hoarse sound he makes just before he shoves himself back onto me. It's incredibly sexy; I wonder what it would be like to watch him fuck someone, to see this scenario, but as a voyeur?

 

Michael:          It doesn't take him long to build to a merciless pace, and I can feel myself pulled along, propelled into heat and lust and passion.  I like it when his palm connects with my bum; it adds a little thrill, a little spice to something already good.  I can feel it begin to gather in my spine, in my belly, in my stones, feel it grow, winding tighter and tighter, until I think it's going to break, break me in half.  Then, almost before I realize it, can delay it, my coming breaks over me like a storm, and with a surprised yell, my body clenches in the sweet pain/pleasure of orgasm.

 

Colin:  "Christ!" I hadn't been expecting he would go so soon; his body tightens around me almost painfully, squeezing me over and over as he rides out his orgasm. I groan, thrusting against the tightness, heat spreading through me, burning at the center, sending fire into my veins as I begin to peak. I thrust hard into him, over and over, feeling his body rocking against mine from the intensity. One...last...stroke...and he's shoving back against, me, body tight and hot around me, my cock pulsing inside its little rubber coat as I release myself into him, my eyes closing as the sweet intensity storms through me.

Michael:          All too soon, and he withdraws from me.  I slide to my belly in a wet, messy smear; my body tingles, and blood rushes through my veins in the most wonderful way.  I know in a moment a delicious weariness will creep over me, a feeling to savor.  Colin slips back into bed, wraps himself around me, kisses my neck and nuzzles me until I turn my head to him.  He smells of toothpaste and mouthwash, and won't leave me be until I kiss him.  I don't mind; it's lovely, actually---kissing is good---and I respond lazily.  But he's greedy; he wants more and pushes and tugs at me until I finally roll to my side, and he can wrap himself fully about me.  I grumble and call him names, but don't mean it, and when he's finally wrapped himself about me the way he wishes, he heaves a sigh of contentment.

 

Colin:  I'll get up in a few minutes; the chicken pie is still in the oven, keeping warm, but I shouldn't leave it there all night. At some point we'll need to get up and eat, as it's early yet. But it's wonderful to lie here like this, pressed skin to skin with someone who doesn't feel as if they need to get right up and go. I shift myself enough to bring a hand up, stroking my fingers through Michael's damp hair, my entire body humming with contentment and satisfaction. His eyes are closed, though I don't believe he's asleep. Edging on a doze, perhaps, but not asleep. What a surprise, to find him last night. And the surprises are still coming--at about the rate we are, actually. I smile against his neck at that thought, then shift so I can nuzzle him and still breathe. I'd missed this, giving most of my time and effort to the quick backroom fucks, or someone over just for the evening. The 'after' part was just as wonderful, if for different reasons, as the 'during'.

 

Michael:          It's lovely, to be held, to be petted, to be kissed; I'd forgotten how it was to lie quiet and sated for a long time in someone's arms.  I know I drift in and out, slipping easily from dozing to muzzy wakefulness as my body slips down from the adrenaline rush.  Perhaps, I realize as I make a happy sound, nuzzling into his throat, breathing in his scent, there is something after all to this savoring the moment idea Colin has.

~finis~


End file.
